NewsArticles

August 28 2022

Op-Ed: In the Yukon, nature is thriving. We can keep it that way

CPAWS Yukon Blog, NewsArticles

Written by Chris Rider | Aug 28, 2022
Photo by Malkolm Boothroyd, front ranges in Kluane.

Read the full editorial as published in the Yukon News on August 28th, 2022.

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Op-Ed: In the Yukon, nature is thriving. We can keep it that way

Nature surrounds us in the Yukon. It is what makes living here so special. There are endless possibilities for outdoor adventures, and when you’re out on the land, it’s common to go days without seeing another human.

Yukoners – both First Nations and non-First Nations – are able to fill their freezers with caribou, bison, moose and sheep. Although we maintain sensible restrictions on harvest numbers in many areas, it’s still straightforward for anyone living here to get a tag. This is an opportunity that has largely been lost to people living in the provinces, where they often have to wait years for a chance to hunt anything other than deer.

The fact that the Yukon still has healthy ecosystems is something we can all celebrate. It means we aren’t facing the same crisis as much of Canada and the world. Large-scale protection in the Peel Watershed and northern Yukon helps ensure that in parts of the Territory this will remain the case.

My fear is that despite these meaningful wins for nature, we still risk sleepwalking our way into the same crisis that’s facing the rest of the country. By setting meaningful conservation goals, Yukon can protect the cultural (traditional hunting areas, sacred places, etc.) and ecological values we hold so dear.

What could a large decline in the health of wildlife populations mean for the Yukon? First, it would result in a loss of culture. This is particularly the case for the First Nations people who have subsisted off the land for millenia, but it would impact the lives of every person who hunts, traps, fishes or gathers. It would also impact our tourism industry and economy in significant ways.

We can get a glimpse of the future by looking Outside. Globally, plants, animals and insects are disappearing at a rate faster than at any time since the extinction of the dinosaurs. It is a crisis caused by humans – we have destroyed huge swathes of habitat, over-fished and hunted, polluted the air and water with chemicals and plastics, and are causing the climate to warm.

Canada is not immune to this biodiversity crisis. According to researchers, 20% of all wildlife species in Canada are imperiled to some degree, and a recent study by WWF found that of nearly 1000 species of animal that could be tracked, over half had declined since the 1970s. This is why in the provinces, people are talking about the urgent need to take action to halt and reverse biodiversity loss.

It’s tempting to think that we don’t have to worry here, especially because everywhere we look, there are miles of undeveloped land. Unfortunately, what sometimes seems like a small amount of development can add up and have a big impact. Roads can increase hunting access and create a spiderweb of new developments. Mines can also have an oversized impact when they’re located in key wildlife habitat, or contaminate water. This risk is particularly high in the Yukon, where our harsher climate means wildlife needs comparatively large intact areas to get the nutrition they need to survive. This is why we tend to see fewer animals when we’re out and about than you might in warmer climates.

The good news is that it’s not too late for the Yukon. First Nations are working hard to protect their lands and waters – we simply need to follow their leadership. Tools like the Chapter 11 land use planning process and Indigenous Protected & Conserved Areas (IPCAs) can provide a path to expanded conservation across the Territory. We can use these tools to protect large, connected areas that will preserve the ecological and cultural values that make this such a special place to live.

In 2021, CPAWS Yukon and the Yukon Conservation Society commissioned DataPath to run independent polling to learn more about Yukoners’ perspectives about the environment. They found that 78% of Yukoners believe that we should aim to protect at least 30% of our land and water by 2030. There are few issues that more of us agree on.

Canada’s environment ministers will meet in Whitehorse on the last two days of August to discuss the state of the environment and many other issues. Yukon has the opportunity to show that we are leaders by formally committing to strong conservation targets for the Territory. I encourage our Government to do this before it’s too late.

October 5 2021

Op-Ed: Yukon at a crossroads with Fortymile caribou herd

CPAWS Yukon Blog, BlogDawsonRegion, NewsArticles

Written by Malkolm Boothroyd | Oct 5, 2021
Photo by Malkolm Boothroyd.

Current land use planning for the herd’s range offers an opportunity to keep the volatile population on the right path.

Read the full editorial as published in The Narwhal on October 5th, 2021.

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Op-Ed: Yukon at a crossroads with Fortymile caribou herd

About twenty caribou have blocked the road. I pull over to the shoulder and park. It’s a hot July day on the Top of the World Highway, about 90 kilometres northwest of Dawson City, Yukon. A light haze hangs in the air, smoke from wildfires burning across the border in Alaska.

It’s the Fortymile caribou herd. Some caribou are lying on the gravel, others stand as three-week-old calves nuzzle around their legs. Velvet still coats the antlers of the bulls. Several hundred more caribou are scattered across the mountainsides ahead, and a few dozen are bedded among the stunted alders that furnish the rocky outcrops above the highway.

It’s been slow going all afternoon. I’d only just gotten back on the road after waiting three hours for a hundred caribou to clear the highway a few kilometres back. I open the truck door and step out, trying to make as little noise as possible. I tiptoe around the back of the truck to where my companions, Chase Everitt and Chris Clarke, have parked. Chase is a fish and wildlife technician and a Trʼondëk Hwëchʼin citizen. Chris works with the First Nation’s Land Stewardship Project.

The next moment I’m distracted by the roar of wheels churning through gravel. I look up in time to see a white SUV rounding a corner towards us. The vehicle speeds by without slowing down, quickly closing the gap to the caribou. Chris hammers the horn of her truck, and finally the SUV shudders to a halt and reverses back towards us. “There are laws about not harassing wildlife,” Chase tells the driver, a clean shaven guy with greying hair and Alberta plates. “You need to wait until the caribou move off the road.”

“Are you serious?” the man snaps.

He starts venting about public health measures adopted to control the coronavirus pandemic and then circles back to the caribou. He suggests he should be allowed to do what he wants.

“I’m sick of people telling me what I can’t do in my own country.”

There are stories from a hundred years ago when Fortymile caribou were so numerous that it took days for the herd to cross the Yukon River. The paddlewheelers that plied the river between Whitehorse and Dawson would have to moor up and wait for the caribou to finish crossing. The herd has been through staggering crashes and spikes in the intervening time, from numbering in the hundreds of thousands, to just a few thousand in the 1970s. Concerted efforts to recover the population began in the 1990s. Wildlife authorities in Alaska began an expansive program of predator suppression, while Yukon hunters and the Trʼondëk Hwëchʼin stopped harvesting the herd. By 2017, the herd had rebounded to more than 80,000 caribou.

There’s something poetic about the Fortymile herd recovering to a point where it can once again stop traffic, but our Albertan friend doesn’t seem amused. He pulls a U-turn and speeds back towards Dawson, waving his middle finger at us as he disappears.

The Fortymile caribou are one of those animals that everything else seems to revolve around. Bears and wolves follow in the wake of the herd, and the footsteps of countless generations of caribou are etched into the mountainsides. Fortymile caribou sustained the Trʼondëk Hwëchʼin, and caribou meat helped to feed the tens of thousands of prospectors who flocked north during the Klondike Gold Rush. This excessive hunting by newcomers drove the herd to crisis, and displaced the First Nation’s harvest. The Fortymile caribou may have faded away for a time, but its recovery is bringing new optimism, as well as new fears.

I’d come here hoping to get photos and videos of caribou to use in the advocacy work I do with the Yukon chapter of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society. The Yukon is in the middle of land use planning for the Dawson region, which will determine which parts of the herd’s range will be protected, and how much development can happen in the rest. This is a critical time for the Fortymile caribou. Some biologists worry that food shortages within the herd’s range could trigger another population crash. Meanwhile, new mining developments could encroach upon the herd’s remaining range. The next few years will shape the future of the herd for decades to come.

The memory of the Fortymile caribou still lingers on the landscapes they once inhabited. Ancient caribou trails line mountains in the Dawson Range, even though the herd has not been seen in these lands for more than 60 years. The herd once ranged throughout the central Yukon and Alaska, some winters migrating almost as far south as Whitehorse. One traveller described canoeing down the White River in 1909, where “for forty miles we were running through one continuous mass of caribou. The narrow valley and high bald mountains on either side, swarmed with the animals.” In the 1920s, the herd probably numbered around 250,000, according to Alaska’s Department of Fish and Game.

Profligate hunting of the Fortymile caribou began at the turn of the 20th century and accelerated through the 1930s as new roads opened the highlands to hunters. Historical accounts from game officers in Alaska described people firing into herds — leaving some caribou crippled, and others dead with their meat left to waste. In a single season, 10,000 caribou were killed by hunters in one game district in Alaska. One warden wrote that “most people are content to believe that the animals are in countless numbers that cannot be exhausted.” By the 1930s, the herd was in serious decline. Wolves and wildfires likely worsened the herd’s freefall, and by 1940 fewer than 20,000 remained. The herd had recovered somewhat by 1960, only to plummet again. By 1975, there were only around 5,000 left, according to the Yukon government. The once expansive range of the Fortymile caribou contracted to its very core, in the hills between Dawson City and Fairbanks.

Thanks to decades of recovery work, there are more than 10 times as many caribou in the Fortymile herd as there were in the 1970s. Still, there hasn’t been a corresponding increase in the herd’s range. It’s hard to say why. The networks of mines that extend south from Dawson City might deter caribou from crossing these habitats, but there are other explanations too. Trees and shrubs are flourishing at ever higher elevations as climate change heats up the north. That means the alpine migration corridors, those places above treeline that once unlocked the central Yukon, may now be too overgrown for caribou to use. It’s also possible that the Fortymile herd has lost its collective memory of its old range and the pathways leading there. Migrations have to be learned, and this knowledge could have died out decades and decades ago with the last of the caribou that ventured into central Yukon.

The herd’s failure to reestablish its old range means that caribou are packed tightly within its core range. Some biologists suspect that the herd has surpassed the carrying capacity of the ecosystems it inhabits — essentially that there aren’t enough grasses, sedges and lichens to sustain 80,000 caribou. Insufficient food makes it less likely for cows to give birth, and more difficult for the calves that are born to survive. There are fears another population crash could be looming. This has led wildlife managers in Alaska to push for more hunting to bring the herd’s population down. The Yukon government and the Trʼondëk Hwëchʼin First Nation recently agreed on a new management plan, which includes a small hunt for non-First Nations hunters. It’s a new era for the Fortymile caribou.

The hills surrounding Dawson City trend steadily higher as you go west towards Alaska, and slowly the hilltops begin to shrug off the cloak of the boreal forest. These tundra ridges are the heart of the herd’s summer habitat. In the windswept highlands there’s relief from mosquitoes, and lichens and grasses to feed on. Fortymile caribou give birth to their calves across the border in Alaska, then in late June and early July huge congregations of caribou move into the Yukon, following the ridgelines to skirt the tangles of spruce and alder that fill the valleys.

Many of these ridges are also lined with mining roads, winding away towards placer mines in the valleys and hardrock exploration properties in the alpine. Over a quarter of the herd’s core range is blanketed by quartz mining claims. Study after study — from Alaska and the Yukon, to Alberta and the Northwest Territories — warn of the impacts to caribou from industrial development. Developments like roads, mines and oil and gas infrastructure displace caribou from ecosystems, interrupt migrations, and make it easier for predators like wolves to prey on caribou.

Big decisions are looming about which parts of the Fortymile caribou herd’s range will be conserved, and which areas will stay open to mining. In the Yukon, decisions like these are made through the territory’s land use planning process, born from the Umbrella Final Agreement between Yukon First Nations and the Crown. In June the Dawson Land Use Planning Commission released the first draft of its plan. The plan divides the Dawson region into 23 different landscape management units, each with its own land use designation. Forty-five per cent of the region has some form of conservation designation, and the rest is open to varying levels of development.

The plan recommends strong protections for the very core of the herd’s range within the Matson Uplands, a mountain range along the Alaska border, west of Dawson City. But the remainder of the herd’s key range is at risk. Most of the herd’s remaining critical summer range falls within the ‘Fortymile Caribou Corridor’ landscape management unit. This area is divided by elevation, with high elevations open to limited development and low elevations open to moderate development. In alpine habitats, the industrial footprint cannot exceed one quarter of one percent of the landscape. This threshold is relatively low, but it’s calculated by averaging disturbances across the 800 square kilometres of alpine within the unit. High amounts of disturbance could still occur within small areas. Any mining development within ridgetop habitats could interrupt caribou migration corridors, or displace them from key summer habitats.

With a few modifications, the Dawson Land Use Plan could provide strong protections for the Fortymile caribou. It’s critical to keep alpine ridges free from new industrial development, and the plan should designate these habitats as conservation areas. The plan should also ensure there’s ample wintering habitat for Fortymile caribou. Caribou disperse across lower elevations in the winter, and developments within core wintering habitats should remain within levels caribou can tolerate.

The word restore comes up a lot in conversations about the Fortymile caribou herd. There’s restoring the herd to a robust population, and the herd restoring parts of its old range, but it’s equally important to restore people’s connections to the herd.

A few Trʼondëk Hwëchʼin citizens began hunting the herd again in the 2000s, but rebuilding relationships with the herd has been slow. There were generations of Trʼondëk Hwëchʼin who barely hunted the herd. Young people like Chase Everitt are changing that. “I just like seeing animals,” he says. “Even after the shot, it’s not the excitement of ‘I got one’ it’s ‘I get to see it more, see what it actually looks like, everything about it.’ ”

Chase describes his first time hunting the Fortymile caribou. He shot one caribou from a group of four, then the sound of the rifle echoing off the hills set the landscape into motion. Thousands of caribou stirred across the mountains ahead of him. The image sounds a lot like accounts I’d read from a century ago, when people spoke of mountainsides so thick with caribou that the landscape itself seemed alive.

Chris and Chase head back for Dawson. I drive another kilometre up the road, then pack a bag with camera gear and start bushwhacking. I head for the top of a hill, not far from where I’d seen caribou congregating earlier in the day. After a few minutes I break free from a tangle of alders into the clear. Soon a hundred caribou appear just ahead along the ridge. I duck down among a clump of spruce and wait. The caribou burst into a canter and jostle towards me. The herd passes within 30 metres of me. The air is heavy with the sounds of grunting and clicking tendons. Then they’re gone.

May 13 2021

Op-Ed: There’s momentum for mining reform

CPAWS Yukon Blog, NewsArticles mining

Written by Randi Newton | May 13, 2021
Photo by Malkolm Boothroyd, mining in Keno.

The territory’s mining legislations need a substantial overhaul.

Read the full editorial as published in the Yukon News on May 13th, 2021.

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Op-Ed: There’s momentum for mining reform

The Yukon’s mining laws were enacted over a hundred years ago. Despite minor updates, they haven’t kept pace with the scale of mining seen today, or with the territory’s social, political, and legal landscape. I had hoped the development of the Mineral Development Strategy would provide a blueprint for bringing the territory’s mining laws into stride with 21st century expectations and realities.

While the final strategy, released this April, includes many progressive recommendations and is a big step forward, it isn’t enough to move past the mire of issues linked to the Yukon’s current mining regime.

True, it does include powerful mentions of reconciliation and honouring Aboriginal rights, respecting the wellbeing of people and the environment, and managing mining in a forward thinking way. But its recommendations fall short in fully and consistently advancing all of these ideas. First Nations and many others pointed out the shortcoming of the draft strategy but most of these flaws were not resolved in the final document.

Despite this, I remain optimistic that mining in the territory can be reshaped, to ensure that the health of the land, people and communities comes first, and that the benefits and opportunities that mining can bring are equitably shared. The Mineral Development Strategy is just one of multiple forces pushing the territory in that direction.

These forces include notable court cases, like the Supreme Court of Canada’s Peel Watershed ruling that upheld the right of First Nations to meaningfully participate in resource management in their traditional territories. It also includes the Yukon Court of Appeal’s 2012 ruling, which found the Yukon government had a duty to consult Ross River Dena Council before granting quartz mineral claims, and that the territory’s free entry mining system conflicted with this duty.

Despite these legal victories, policies and legislation can shift frustratingly slowly. If change was quicker to arrive, the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun wouldn’t have had to launch legal action against the territorial government for failing to properly consult before they approved mineral exploration in the Tsé Tagé (Beaver River) Watershed. But this case also shows that people and First Nation governments will continue to stand up for meaningful reform.

Momentum for mining reform was also on display at the Yukon Water Board’s October 2020 public hearing on placer mining in wetlands. While the board has not yet acted on that hearing, First Nations and environmental organizations sent a clear message that placer mining in undisturbed wetlands must be paused until a framework is in place to protect the ecological integrity of these habitats and to respect Aboriginal Rights.

Other signs of change include Yukon government’s rejection of Atac Resources’ 65 km mining exploration road through the pristine Tsé Tagé Watershed, a project that may have gone ahead had the government’s review been less thoughtful. Another recent example was the federal government directing the Yukon Environmental and Socio-Economic Review Board (YESAB) to revisit and better address the likely impacts of the Kudz ze Kyah mine, including the decline of the Finlayson caribou herd and resulting impacts on Kaska Dena rights. This shows it’s becoming less acceptable for projects to move forward with unproven plans to avoid and address impacts on wildlife, water and the land.

These forces of change are reflected in the attitudes of Yukoners. Recent independent polling commissioned by CPAWS Yukon and the Yukon Conservation Society shows that:

60 per cent of Yukoners think that our territory’s mining laws are too weak (only 24 per cent think they’re strong enough);
72 per cent agree that much more should be done to clean up mines after they’re closed; and
78 per cent support ambitious conservation goals, the same or higher than Canada’s target to protect 30 per cent of land and waters by 2030.

While many of the recommendations in the Yukon Mineral Development Strategy would improve the mining rules currently in place, the changes envisioned in the strategy will likely be outpaced by the forces mentioned above. The final strategy doesn’t resolve key issues, like mining and other development moving forward ahead of land use planning or attaining free, prior, and informed consent from First Nations. This leaves mineral development at odds with other values and uses of land, and in conflict with First Nation rights.

As another example, CPAWS Yukon and others had hoped the strategy would call for a pause on mineral staking and development at the start of land use planning. Otherwise, a steady stream of permits quickly reduces options to thoughtfully consider other uses of land and can introduce complicated wranglings for compensation. Unfortunately, the final strategy caps temporary staking withdrawals at 20 per cent of a planning region, a number that’s arbitrary and inadequate for preserving other land values while planning is ongoing.

We were also concerned by some of the recommendations to streamline the regulatory system. While this is an admiral goal on the surface, a number of the strategy’s recommendations would achieve it at the expense of accountability and transparency. One example is a recommendation to create a government liaison position to guide proponents through the mining regulatory system. Having the government act as both regulator and client advisor creates a conflict of interest and can impede the ability of regulators to act in the public interest.

Yet the strategy also includes recommendations that will bring about overdue and powerful changes. Most significantly, it calls on the Yukon to modernize its woefully outdated mining laws. Engagement submissions from First Nations, environmental organizations and many Yukoners show the expectation is for legislation to be brought fully in line with the Final Agreements and Aboriginal rights, as well as environmental and cultural sustainability.

The Mineral Development Strategy also places rightful priority on continuing land use planning across the territory, and on making sure there is funding available to do planning properly.

As with the draft, the strategy calls for a comprehensive review of our royalty system, so that more of the profits that are extracted out of the land flow back to Yukoners and First Nations, and future generations. It also includes progressive new mechanisms like a Heritage Fund and a payroll tax for fly-in workers. These policies would help deliver more consistent and fair financial, social and ecological returns to the Yukon.

Most meaningfully, the development of the Yukon Mineral Development Strategy sparked an important and lively public discussion about how to best reshape mining in the territory, for the betterment of the land, climate, wildlife, people, and communities. Even if the strategy itself didn’t fully capture all of the contributing voices, this conversation will continue as people work together to shape the future of the territory.

December 10 2020

Op-Ed: Government was right to say ‘no’ to the ATAC road

CPAWS Yukon Blog, BlogBeaverRiver, NewsArticles

Written by Randi Newton | Dec 10, 2020
Photo by Malkolm Boothroyd, iron-stained creek in the Beaver River watershed.

Resource projects can’t expect to move forward if they don’t respect proper processes.

Read the full editorial as published in the Yukon News on December 10th, 2020.

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Op-Ed: Government was right to say ‘no’ to the ATAC road

Late last month, the Yukon government rejected an application by ATAC Resources to build a 65-kilometre mineral exploration road through the roadless Beaver River Watershed. The road would have led to ATAC’s 185-km span of mining claims, perched between Keno and the Peel Watershed, in the Traditional Territory of the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun.

I am fortunate to have paddled through the heart of this special area twice. The Beaver River Watershed holds a richness of life: crystal blue waters marked by red Chinook salmon, watchful eagles perched overhead and wolf pups scurrying along the shoreline. I have no doubts of the impacts the road would have brought to this area.

ATAC doesn’t agree with the government’s decision and is assessing options with its lawyers. The company even released a statement questioning whether the Yukon ‘is in fact open for business.’ The reality is that ATAC’s approach left the Yukon government with no choice but to say no.

The company did not address many serious concerns with the road, seemingly grew impatient, and then tried to sidestep a land use planning process that had been put in place because of the road proposal. What this decision really means is that the best and only way forward for resource development is to respect proper processes and to work with First Nations in a meaningful way.

A long list of impacts were identified when the project went to the Yukon Environmental and Socio-economic Assessment Board (YESAB) in 2016. The Department of Environment warned that new road access, and the cascade of industrial development likely to follow, would harm moose, grizzlies, fish, and other wildlife, and negatively impact hunting and trapping. They indicated that moose populations would be at particular risk, as harvest in the management unit is already above sustainable levels. The department concluded that the ATAC road carried “a high risk of significant and immitigable impacts.”

Given the project’s potential to degrade the watershed, in 2018 the Yukon government and the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun agreed that a land use plan in the Beaver River Watershed had to be completed before approval of road construction would be considered. This process was meant to give Na-Cho Nyäk Dun citizens and Yukoners the opportunity to try to resolve concerns with the road.

At the time, ATAC appeared committed to respecting that process. Their website even made it clear the company understood road approval was conditional, “pending a land use plan for the Beaver River”. In 2019, midway through the consultations, ATAC made the decision to walk away from the plan, and attempt to get the road approved through the back door. Mention of the land use plan was recently scrubbed from their website.

The application they submitted to the Yukon government attempted to tack the road on to their exploration permit and have the road approved as an amendment. The word “amendment” typically means “minor change” and this road, about the length of the highway between Whitehorse and Carcross, is anything but. ATAC tweaked a few short sections of the road alignment to skirt past the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun Settlement Land, but the overall impacts and route remained the same. It seems like a clear attempt to circumvent the land use planning process.

This is the application that was recently denied by the Department of Energy, Mines and Resources, and for good reasons. Despite cries otherwise, nothing about the decision should have been a surprise to ATAC or those in the industry. The decision was clear cut under the Quartz Mining Land Use Regulation, which states that project applications must show how serious impacts to treaty rights and environmental and socio-cultural values will be mitigated. The regulator made it clear that ATAC failed to do so.

For one, the decision document notes that permitting an exploration road of that length — 65 km — is “unprecedented” and that no new roads over 50 km had been authorized in the last decade. Remember, the application is for a road to an exploration project, not an active mine. Approving it would be risking severe consequences for a project that might not even pan out.

The potential for damage with this project was high and ATAC’s application didn’t adequately address it. A litany of unresolved issues are noted in the decision document, ranging from inadequate baseline data to unaddressed cumulative impacts on wildlife and traditional ways of life and insufficient tools to manage these impacts.

The decision document also notes the application didn’t address the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun’s concerns that the road would have significant adverse impacts on their Aboriginal and treaty rights, alter an untouched part of their traditional territory, and alienate people from the land.

While ATAC has argued it needs the road to advance its claims, regulators do not owe the company a road. The company is working in a jurisdiction where significant impacts have to be addressed before projects are authorized. ATAC’s application failed to do so. Regulators wouldn’t be doing their job if they allowed projects to move forward without regard for damage to Yukon’s ecological and cultural values, or impacts on Aboriginal and treaty rights.

Hopefully this signals an expected way forward for doing business in the Yukon, where success is measured by the quality of relationships with local people and by securing the long-term health of the land, as well as long-term prosperity.

Responsible industry actors should stand by this Yukon government decision. It signals the importance of government following through on its commitments, including to land use planning and reconciliation. Sidestepping an established land-use planning process has not ended well for anyone in the past. Last month’s decision demonstrated that the Yukon is open for business, but not at any cost, and only to those who can work here in a respectful way.

Op-ed we’re taking the U.S. government to court over the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge

August 27 2020

Op-Ed: Why we’re taking the U.S. government to court over the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge

CPAWS Yukon Blog, BlogArcticRefuge, NewsArticles

Written by Malkolm Boothroyd | Aug 27, 2020
Photo by Ken Madsen, Porcupine caribou migration.

Our lawsuit argues the review of oil and gas development failed to value Indigenous rights and threats to wildlife, as Trump moves forward with lease sales in vital cross-border caribou habitat.

Read the full editorial as published in The Narwhal on August 27th, 2020.

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Op-Ed: Why we’re taking the U.S. government to court over the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge

Two years ago I sat in a windowless convention hall in Anchorage, Alaska, breathing stale air, waiting my turn to speak about the most vibrant place I’d ever visited, the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. High-ranking officials from the U.S. Department of Interior sat at the front of the room, emotionless as speaker after speaker described the importance of the Arctic refuge — for caribou, birds, polar bears, and Indigenous communities across the North that depend on the Porcupine caribou herd.

The Interior Department had just begun its environmental review of oil and gas leasing on the Coastal Plain of the Arctic refuge. But even back then, the outcome seemed to have already been determined. The people in charge of the environmental review were closely tied to the oil industry, and the President of the United States had repeatedly claimed opening the Arctic refuge to drilling as one of his proudest accomplishments. All signs pointed towards a rushed and cursory review.

Last week the Interior Department released its Record of Decision, bringing its environmental review to a close. To nobody’s surprise, the department gave the go-ahead to the most aggressive scenario imaginable: one that would offer up the entire Coastal Plain to oil companies, and place the fewest restrictions on drilling. This week, we responded. Thirteen groups, CPAWS Yukon included, are taking the Department of Interior to court. The lawsuit is led by the Gwich’in Steering Committee, and will be argued by lawyers from Trustees for Alaska, a public interest environmental law group. Earthjustice and the Natural Resources Defence Council have filed a second lawsuit.

Our lawsuit challenges the legality of Interior’s environmental review. For example, the environmental review gave little heed to the seven original purposes of the Arctic refuge, like protecting wildlife, wilderness and subsistence. Instead it shaped its environmental review to accommodate an oil and gas leasing program, an eighth purpose that was only added in 2017 when the U.S. Congress opened the refuge to drilling. We allege that the Department of Interior broke the law by disregarding the refuge’s original purposes and failing to safeguard those purposes through the design of its oil and gas leasing program.

We also contend that the Department of Interior broke the law by not adequately considering alternatives, failing to take a hard look at the consequences of drilling and not adequately addressing the threats to Gwich’in subsistence rights. In total, our lawsuit makes eight claims against the Department of Interior for transgressions in its environmental review and associated actions to authorize leasing in the Arctic refuge. If we prevail, we hope the courts will invalidate the Department of Interior’s environmental review, and any decisions that stem from it.

The Department of Interior could have modelled its environmental review after the Berger Commission. It could have taken the time to visit every Gwich’in community, and learn why oil and gas development in the Arctic refuge poses such a grave threat to the Gwich’in way of life. The Department of Interior could have listened to scientists and the public. It could have written an environmental impact statement that acknowledged the magnitude of damage that drilling would bring. But that didn’t suit the U.S. government’s agenda — since a review in good faith would have found that the dangers of drilling far, far outweighed the pros. Instead, the Department of Interior started with a conclusion in mind, and then wrote an environmental review to justify it.

The coming months will be pivotal for the Arctic refuge — with lawsuits, a potential lease sale and the U.S. election all looming. At the same time we’re working on a parallel strategy, pressuring Canadian banks to rule out financing for Arctic refuge drilling. Our allies in the United States are pressuring corporations there to do the same, and five of the six largest U.S. banks have agreed.

Autumn is spreading across the Arctic, and most of the caribou have departed from the Coastal Plain. I hope that by the time the caribou return next spring, the future of the Arctic refuge will be much more secure than it is today.

October 15 2019

Op-Ed: This 65-kilometre resource road planned for Yukon wilderness will serve mines, not communities

CPAWS Yukon Blog, BlogBeaverRiver, NewsArticles

Written by Malkolm Boothroyd | Oct 15, 2019
Photo by Malkolm Boothroyd, Mount Cameron ridge hike.

New roads designed to service mines can exacerbate habitat fragmentation and introduce new mineral exploration — but somehow aren’t required to fit the territory’s broader land use plans.

Read the full editorial as published in The Narwhal on October 15th, 2019.

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Op-Ed: This 65-kilometre resource road planned for Yukon wilderness will serve mines, not communities

I hear the wind before it hits me, a dull roar slamming the north face of Mount Cameron. The wind wraps around the ridge, hissing between the slabs of lichen-covered rocks, and biting through my hiking clothes.

Even though it’s only the middle of August, I feel the impending winter in the wind, and see it in the yellow-leaved poplar trees far below in the valley.

The full force of the gust greets me as I crest the ridgeline and step onto the peak of Mount Cameron. I dig in my pack for an energy bar and extra layers of clothes then hunker down a rock. Then I pull out my phone and open up Facebook.

Checking the internet out here feels bizarre.

It’s one more reminder that the Yukon, the place I grew up, is changing. I associate mountaintop cell coverage with Banff and Whistler, not the wilds of the Yukon, 400 kilometres north of Whitehorse.

I feel like I’m straddling two Yukons.

South and west of me are cell towers, highways and airstrips. Roads and mines carve up boreal forest valleys and tundra plateaus. To the north and my east, the land is still remote and free of roads. Before me stretches the Beaver River Watershed, and beyond it the Peel Watershed.

These two Yukons aren’t static — one grows while the other shrinks. The Beaver Watershed teeters on the edge, one of many parts of the Yukon that could be transformed by a new wave of development.

Resource roads service mining companies, not communities

Vancouver-based ATAC Resources Ltd. wants to cut a 65-kilometre resource road through the valley below me. The company holds claims to a series of gold and copper deposits east and west of the Beaver River.

Road access would slash the cost of exploration at these properties and make mining development more economical. The ATAC road could also bring serious ecological impacts to the watershed.

Roads are a driving force behind habitat fragmentation, the spread of invasive species and the disruption of water flows. Numerous animals avoid areas near roads, or change their migration patterns in response to roads.

Roads bring both costs and benefits. Many people who call the Yukon home first arrived here on a road trip up the Alaska Highway, and roads help people access beloved lakes, rivers and mountain ranges. At the same time many Yukoners value the remoteness of places like the Peel Watershed, far removed from the rumble of truck engines.

There’s one key difference between the ATAC road and other highways in the Yukon — resource roads service mining companies, not communities.

‘Additional industrial development will follow’

I pull my camera from my pack and snap a few images of the valley. Citizens of the Na-cho Nyak Dun First Nation have close ties to the Beaver River Watershed, however the area is unknown to many in the wider territory.

Collecting photos and stories from this area is a priority for the Yukon chapter of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society, the environmental non-profit where I work. My friend Maury and I are here to capture photos of these mountains.

In 2017 the Yukon Environmental and Socio-economic Assessment Board (YESAB) ruled in favour of the ATAC road, but the board’s review left many questions unanswered.

ATAC’s belt of mineral claims extends more than 100 kilometres beyond the end of the proposed road. The company could be tempted to extend the road in the future, while other mining companies will likely look to build offshoot roads. In comments submitted to the board, the Yukon government acknowledged that “opening up a new all-season access route into the Beaver River watershed results in a high likelihood that additional industrial development will follow.”

The board did not consider the avalanche of development the ATAC road could trigger. Its mandate is to evaluate the specifics of each project as it arises, but this provides few safeguards against incremental environmental impacts.

The Yukon government and Na-cho Nyak Dun First Nation are working on a land use plan for the Beaver River Watershed, though the plan is proceeding on the assumption that the ATAC road will be built.

The Beaver Watershed saga is part of a larger road-building dilemma that is playing out across the Yukon. The Yukon has a relatively small road network, but that’s changing.

In 2017 the federal government, territorial government and the mining industry pledged nearly $470 million to the Yukon Resource Gateway Project — aiming to improve access to mineral hotspots in the Yukon by building or upgrading 650 kilometres of roads.

The Yukon Resource Gateway Project would fund construction in the Dawson Range of west-central Yukon, and the Nahanni Range along the territory’s eastern boundary. The roads would service major mining proposals such as GoldCorp’s Coffee Mine and Western Copper & Gold’s Casino Mine. The latter plans to store tailings behind what would be the highest dam on earth — nearly as tall as the Eiffel Tower.

Beyond servicing these megaprojects, roads in remote areas like the Dawson Range could bring a flurry of new mineral exploration and extraction. In a letter of support for the Resource Gateway Project, the Yukon Chamber of Mines writes that the project would “lead to a significant increase in activity in this highly prospective district.”

Mining activity a threat to caribou herds

Road construction and a corresponding spike in mining activity in the Dawson Range could have serious consequences for the Klaza herd: a type of morthern mountain caribou, listed as special concern under Canada’s Species at Risk Act.

According to Environment Yukon, the Klaza caribou herd faces “some of the most significant conservation concerns among all northern mountain caribou herds in Yukon,” owing in large part to roads and mining activity.

Klaza caribou spend summers in the alpine, and descend to lower elevations in winter. The herd has largely abandoned portions of its winter range where mining, roads and other human activities are concentrated.

Further road construction and development of the Casino Mine and others could force caribou out from high-value winter habitats in the northern part of their range. Increased road and mine development in the Dawson Range could also hinder the recovering Fortymile caribou herd from reestablishing its historical summer range.

Major road construction projects could usher in landscape-level changes to areas like the Dawson Range. The Yukon’s environmental review process is poorly equipped to address the cumulative impacts and domino effects that such projects could bring.

Which version of the Yukon do we want to live in?

According to the Yukon’s application for federal infrastructure funding (submitted under the previous government), the Resource Gateway Project would undergo environmental review as individual road components, not the program as a whole.

The application also notes that road components could be assessed by district offices — the lowest level of review permitted under the territory’s environmental assessment act. District office reviews take an average of 63 business days to conclude, while the impacts brought on by road developments could last for generations. The ATAC road was reviewed by a district office.

One by one, projects are being approved that are transforming the Yukon. This approach to environmental assessments makes it difficult to take a broad view of this development path — and ponder which version of the Yukon we want to live in.

Decisions with long-term implications for the territory should be made through the Yukon’s land use planning process. Land use planning was established under the Umbrella Final Agreement between the Crown and Yukon First Nations, and is designed to make collaborative decisions about future land uses, conservation and developments.

Projects like the Resource Gateway are unlikely to be evaluated as part of the territory’s land use planning process, due to how slowly planning has unfolded.

In the 26 years since the Umbrella Final Agreement was signed, only two land use plans have been finalized.

In contrast, the clock is ticking on the Resource Gateway Project: federal funding expires in 2022.

Developments like the Resource Gateway could amount to de-facto land use planning: irreversibly changing the Yukon while circumventing the land use planning process.

More projects like the Resource Gateway and the ATAC road are sure to come.

Many Yukon government reports over the decades have envisioned new transportation corridors to stimulate mining development and link the Yukon to markets across the world. Meanwhile, the mining industry continually pushes for more infrastructure dollars. Well-reasoned, collaborative decision making — ideally through land use planning, is critical to arriving at the right resolutions over road developments.

The ridge where I’m standing is far out of earshot from the nearest truck, but the wind is loud enough. The gale continues relentlessly through the night. It’s still blowing the next morning, as my friend Maury and I hike through high alpine meadows. We trace the path of an iron-stained creek, one of the 73 creeks or rivers that the ATAC road would cross.

The willows thicken as we descend, and the sporadic spruce trees begin to form a forest. Maury finds a moose trail and we follow it through the trees, awkwardly clambering over fallen logs that a moose would trot over. There are fresh hoof-prints where the ground is soft.

There’s something special about navigating a landscape on trails worn only by the footsteps of grizzly bears and moose.

July 18 2019

Op-Ed: The return of the caribou

CPAWS Yukon Blog, BlogArcticRefuge, NewsArticles

Written by Malkolm Boothroyd | July 18, 2019
Photo by Malkolm Boothroyd, Caribou Days celebrations in Old Crow, Yukon.

The community of Old Crow, Yukon, is ecstatic at the sight of the Porcupine caribou herd — one of the last large, healthy, migratory caribou herds on the planet. But these caribou are threatened by oil drilling in the Arctic Refuge.

Read the full editorial as published in The Narwhal on July 18th, 2019.

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Op-Ed: The return of the caribou

A bull caribou walking through the fog on the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Photo: Malkolm Boothroyd
“Caribou!” somebody shouts.

Dozens of people spring from their seats and hurry for the doors of Old Crow’s community hall, sweeping me along. The caribou stew I’d just ladled into my bowl sloshes dangerously around as I stumble out into the sunlight. The Porcupine River is swollen with snowmelt from the Richardson and Nahoni mountains. Chunks of ice wash downstream. Fifteen caribou struggle against the current, the ripples in their wake catching the sun.

After five minutes of swimming they reach the far bank. The caribou scramble out from the river and vanish into the spindly spruce trees. People are beaming. The caribou have finally returned.

Visits to Old Crow, Yukon, are the best part of my job campaigning against oil drilling in the calving grounds of the Porcupine caribou herd with the Yukon chapter of the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society. I’d come to the Gwich’in community in the Yukon’s northern corner for “Caribou Days.” Locals and visitors compete to fry the best bannock, skin a caribou leg the fastest or toss the most rings onto a set of antlers. In the evenings we feast on fresh caribou then jig and waltz to fiddle music.

Caribou Days is meant to celebrate the return of the herd, as caribou flood north toward their calving grounds in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Except lately, caribou have been hard to come by. People here have been starving for caribou meat.

Last spring was a poor time for caribou around Old Crow and during recent autumn migrations the herd hasn’t lingered around the community. Caribou are critical to the culture and subsistence way of life of the Vuntut Gwitchin and essential to food security in Old Crow, where a bag of apples can cost $17 and two litres of milk costs $9.99.

Nobody is certain why the caribou have been sparse of late. I’ve heard people suggest low-flying cargo planes are disturbing caribou, while others wonder if changes in the climate and increasing shrub growth could be factors. The scarcity of caribou around Old Crow is a paradox, because the herd is at a record high. However, the recent meat shortages the Vuntut Gwitchin have experienced foreshadow what could happen should the health of the Porcupine caribou herd take a turn for the worse, like many other caribou herds across the North.

In 2017, the U.S. government opened the coastal plain of the Arctic Refuge — the heart of the herd’s calving grounds — to oil drilling. Now the administration is fast-tracking an environmental review that would auction away the birthplace of the herd to the fossil fuel industry.

For decades the Gwich’in have led the movement to protect the calving grounds — efforts that have ramped up since 2017. Lorraine Netro, Norma Kassi, Chief Dana Tizya-Tramm and countless other Gwich’in advocates have made journey after gruelling journey to Washington, D.C., to call for protecting the Arctic Refuge. In March, Chief Tizya-Tramm testified before the U.S. House of Representatives, telling lawmakers “development on the coastal plain amounts to the cultural genocide of the entire Gwich’in Nation.”

It’s in large part thanks to the work of the Gwich’in that the Arctic Refuge stayed off-limits to oil and gas for as long as it did. Once again, the Gwich’in and environmental groups are working to keep drilling out of the refuge by scrutinizing the U.S. Government’s environmental review process, building support for wilderness legislation on Capitol Hill and campaigning for banks to withhold financing for drilling.

The Porcupine caribou herd is one of the last large, healthy, migratory caribou herds on the planet. Farther east in the Arctic, the Bathurst and Baffin herds have declined 96 per cent and 98 per cent over the past 30 years. Collectively the two herds have lost close to 700,000 caribou.

The Fortymile caribou of the central Yukon and Alaska are a shadow of their former selves — once so plentiful the herd could take ten days to cross the Yukon River, bringing the steamships that plied back and forth to the Klondike goldfields to a halt. The fate of many caribou herds is reflected in the alarming loss of biodiversity around the planet. That makes the Porcupine caribou herd’s vitality all the more incredible, and protecting the herd even more critical.

The late-evening sun, still high above the horizon, gleams through one of the windows in the community centre and casts a square of dazzling light in the centre of the hall. Lorraine Netro lays out caribou antlers, a hide and spruce boughs on the hardwood floor. Many of the people filtering in are dressed in vests and mocassins made from caribou or moose hide and decorated with hand-beaded flowers. There’s a fashion show tonight, then a talent show and another dance.

The return of the caribou have lit up the weekend’s festivities and are a reminder of why the Porcupine caribou herd is so important to life in Old Crow. Still, it’s hard to forget the danger that lies ahead. Keeping oil drilling out of the Arctic Refuge calls for monumental efforts from the Gwich’in, and groups like ours that support them in this campaign. Securing permanent protection for the calving grounds could take years, maybe even decades. That’s a long time. But for tonight, it is time for more jigging and fiddle music.

June 20 2019

Op-Ed: Foreign funding for local environmental groups no conspiracy

CPAWS Yukon Blog, NewsArticles

Written by Chris Rider | Jun 20, 2019

Foreign funding doesn’t mean activism isn’t locally grown.

Read the full editorial as published in the Yukon News on June 20th, 2019.

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Op-Ed: Foreign funding for local environmental groups no conspiracy

Over the past year, Canadians have been flooded with rhetoric about foreign-funded eco-activist agendas. Articles and interviews have been laced with these buzzwords to promote division, fear and anger. According to some, there’s a giant conspiracy that environmental groups are plotting to destroy the resource industry and destabilize Canada’s energy sector.

If there is a conspiracy to destabilize the country, it definitely isn’t run through the perpetually overworked and underfunded non-profit sector. Like most people in the charitable sector, we work in this field because we believe it’s important. Life on the planet is dying at rate that humanity has never seen before.

We passionately believe that protecting the Yukon’s thriving, connected eco-systems are critical to maintaining the culture of the Yukon as well as the survival of the people, plants, and animals that call it home.

It is true that CPAWS Yukon, and many organizations like us, receive part of our funding from abroad. If you want to learn more about where we receive our money, you can read our audited financial statements on the transparency page of our website. The reason that we have chosen to make those documents available is that it’s not something we feel the need to hide.

Canada’s economy is connected to the rest of the world. That’s as true for the environmental sector as it is any other industry. For example, Postmedia newspapers, such as the National Post, have run numerous columns criticizing foreign funded environmental groups. This is despite the fact that their majority shareholder is a U.S. based hedge fund called GoldenTree Asset Management.

The Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers (CAPP), another big critic of foreign funded environmental groups, receives significant funding from foreign companies and even has board members who represent the direct interests of companies based in the U.S., China, Malaysia and Norway. Closer to home, Minto Mine was just bought by the U.K. based Pembridge Resources. These businesses are clearly influenced by their foreign owners, yet we do not complain. It’s part of living in a global economy, and that’s our reality.

Canada’s comparatively small population and the global relevance of our work means that for non-government organizations (NGOs) like CPAWS Yukon, it simply makes sense for us to look internationally for support. We decide the work we want to do and write a proposal to pitch our ideas.

If a foundation buys into our vision, they might agree to fund us. If they don’t like our proposal, they won’t. But they have never directed us on what to do. Those decisions come from people who live in and love the Yukon.

As we head towards election season, we’ve started to see talk of “foreign influence” come to the Yukon. For example, in a recent edition of Canadian Geographic, someone suggested that the campaign to protect the Peel Watershed was blown out of proportion by international environmental groups who leapt in with little understanding of the region.

This is false on several levels. The public campaign was home grown in the Yukon, led by CPAWS Yukon and the Yukon Conservation Society — two organizations who have worked here for decades.

It was done in partnership with the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyak Dun, Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in First Nation and Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation — as well as the Teetl’it Gwich’in of the Northwest Territories who all have traditional territory in the Peel. The claim that it was blown out of proportion (perhaps unintentionally) denies the agency of the Elders, leaders and other community members who have consistently worked to protect their home. It’s insulting to suggest that people standing up for their land and their rights are only doing so because they’re part of an international conspiracy.

Our joint victory at the Supreme Court of Canada in 2017 is a clear indication of the importance of our efforts. Canada’s highest court does not hear cases that are blown out of proportion, and the unanimous ruling made clear that Yukon government had acted inappropriately. Without the support of foundations who helped fund the long and expensive legal process, we wouldn’t have had the resources to hold them accountable.

I respect that there are many good people who make their living from mining, and I recognize that it’s an industry that’s currently important to the Yukon’s economy. At the same time, the world is in the midst of a climate crisis and we are seeing a level of biodiversity loss that’s difficult to fathom.

As the world burns around us, the Yukon has an unparalleled opportunity to protect large areas of our land for the wildlife and future generations of people who will call the Yukon home. It’s an opportunity we can’t afford to miss.

The world’s eyes are on Canada, as they should be. We don’t have time to deflect from the issues that plague our world. We need to stop insulting each other and work together to find a balance that respects the incredible wild places that still make the Yukon special. We only have one shot.

March 21 2019

Op-Ed: Do endangered species endanger industries?

CPAWS Yukon Blog, NewsArticles

Written by Malkolm Boothroyd | Mar 21, 2019
Photo by Malkolm Boothroyd, a collared pika (a species of special concern) in the Ruby Range.

The Yukon needs species at risk legislation.

Read the full editorial as published in the Yukon News on March 21st, 2019.

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Op-Ed: Do endangered species endanger industries?

Miners and prospectors are endangered species, and there should be an open season on environmentalists. I’m paraphrasing a comment I read online after CPAWS Yukon called on the Yukon government to write species at risk legislation.

Calls for strengthening environmental laws are often met with the same reaction — that environmental protections destroy jobs and immobilize resource extraction industries in tangles of red tape. It’s a storyline that’s especially prevalent around endangered species. Logging companies can’t clear-cut forests because of spotted owls. Protecting salmon would shut down mines.

Both the U.S. government and the Ontario government are making similar arguments as they attempt to strip key protections from their respective endangered species acts. The Ontario government references “barriers to economic development” as it suggests weakening habitat protections and opening loopholes that could delay recovery actions. One proposed amendment to the U.S. Endangered Species Act would water down protections for species threatened, but not yet endangered. Another amendment would allow officials to consider economic factors when determining whether species are imperilled — potentially giving industry lobbyists influence over decisions that should be based on science.

There’s a reason for the dilemma between protecting species and protecting industries. It’s because humans have pushed so many species to the brink. We’re careening towards the earth’s sixth mass extinction. Species are vanishing between one hundred and one thousand times faster than the natural rate of extinction. Dire circumstances demand bold action.

Last week CPAWS Yukon released a report, explaining why we believe the territory should enact species at risk legislation of its own. Current federal and territorial laws aren’t sufficient to protect the Yukon’s biodiversity. Canada’s Species at Risk Act has little power outside of federal lands, meaning it does not apply on the vast majority of land in the Yukon. Meanwhile the Yukon’s Wildlife Act applies to just five percent of species. Standalone species at risk legislation would give the Yukon the tools necessary to protect our most vulnerable animals and plants.

In the Yukon we have the luxury of being proactive. Like much of the north, we have not yet experienced the breadth of biodiversity loss that much of the planet has. If the Yukon enacts laws that protect species before they are critically endangered, then industries shouldn’t fear lawsuits or stop work orders over species at risk.

It’s even possible that lack of territorial legislation could cause industries unnecessary confusion in the future. The current gaps in legislation could lead to a foreseeable situation where the Yukon government is forced to adapt an existing law beyond its intended purpose to provide emergency protection for a species, causing complications for everybody involved. Far from making miners and prospectors endangered species, territorial species at risk legislation would provide them with more certainty. Protecting species that need help — while also creating clearer sets of rules — should be something we all can agree on.

The online commenter who recommended an open season on environmentalists missed one easy critique of protecting species at risk. It’s the question: who cares? Couldn’t the world do without the spiked saxifrage and the yellow-banded bumble bee? Maybe. But there’s an adage in ecology — take one rivet out of an airplane and it will still fly. But continue removing rivets and eventually the plane will fall from the sky. Species, and the roles and relationships they carry, are the rivets that hold ecosystems together.

I’m in awe when I think of the quirky adaptations that animals and plants have found to flourish on this planet. How is it that newly-hatched semipalmated sandpipers can fly from the Arctic tundra all the way to the shores of South America — without any guidance from their parents? When caterpillars weave themselves into cocoons, do they know they’ll grow shimmering wings and emerge as butterflies? Every time a species vanishes, our planet loses part of what makes it so special.

Many of the Yukon’s ecosystems are largely intact, but we can’t take it for granted. The chance to protect our species and ecosystems while they are still relatively healthy won’t last forever. CPAWS Yukon is calling on the Government of Yukon to enact species at risk legislation. If you agree our ecological identity is worth protecting, please do so too.

February 16 2012

Former Chair of the Peel Land Use Planning Commission baffled by government

CPAWS Yukon NewsArticles

WHITEHORSE STAR: FEBRUARY 16, 2012

YUKON PARTY BLASTED FOR POSITION ON PEEL

The government is choosing to ignore the final Peel plan and take matters into its own hands, say conservation groups, the NDP and even the former chair of the planning commission.

Whitehorse Star, By Nadine Sander-Green on February 16, 2012 at 4:09 pm

Photo by Whitehorse Star

Pictured above: DAVE LOEKS

The government is choosing to ignore the final Peel plan and take matters into its own hands, say conservation groups, the NDP and even the former chair of the planning commission.

“I assumed all parties were providing us with what we needed to know,” David Loeks, who chaired the Peel Watershed Planning Commission since it was created in 2004 said today.

“This information was was never tabled to the commission.”

Loeks was referring to the set of eight principles for planning the Peel watershed the government released to the media and the four affected First Nations Tuesday.

Although the government claims the principles take a balanced approach, many are saying the new document is the first step toward opening the watershed to industrial development.

The Yukon Party government has been silent on whether it supports the final Peel plan, evading questions during the fall election and claiming it can’t take a stance until the whole planning process is complete.

Loeks is baffled the government chose to create these principles — which he thinks are closer to “objectives” — after the commission’s work has been completed.

He and the rest of the commission’s staff worked with a set of six guiding principles throughout the planning process, which included sustainable development, conservation and the precautionary principle.

“What they’re saying is we don’t really need a planning process, we’re going to do it on our own around a table with government people,” said Loeks.

The former chair said he thinks the government would throw out the commission’s final recommendations if it wasn’t legally bound to the process through the aboriginal land claim settlements

“They allowed us to get all the way through that without saying they fundamentally disagreed with the way we were doing things,” he continued.

When Loeks revealed the final blueprint last July — which again took a conservation approach and recommended that 80 per cent of the watershed be protected — he spoke of frustrations while working with the government.

The government said it wanted more balance but was not specific as to where and why, Loeks said at the time. He believes the commission “more or less got it right” in the 2010 recommendation.

Elaine Schiman, a spokesperson for cabinet, stressed today that the government in no way is rejecting the final Peel plan, as media reports have recently suggested.

“We are modifying it,” she said.

Energy, Mines and Resources Minister Brad Cathers, told the Star Monday these principles will help Yukoners find common ground. He said they are meant to guide the plan’s modification and the upcoming rounds of public consultation.

The Liberals are applauding the government for getting the ball rolling, but are concerned about the origins of the new principles.

“My question is, where did they come from?” Darius Elias, interim Liberal leader, said this morning.

“What the Yukon Party government’s written reasons are to modify the plan, and to what extent, better be good,” he continued. “If they’re not, I predict a swift and remarkable public outcry.”

Elias is particularly concerned about two principles that focus on managing intensity of use instead of prohibiting it.

“Those are in a totally different direction from what the commission recommended,” he said.

He believes the Peel planning process is far from being over and Cathers’ goal of having it wrapped up is “pretty ambitious”.

The NDP is taking a more aggressive approach to the government’s latest announcement.

Party leader Liz Hanson called it a “frontal assault” on the territory and one that threatens the fundamental faith Yukoners have in their government.

She said when the Peel planning process began, both First Nations and the Yukon government committed to sustainable development as a main principle.

“Not once does the government speak of sustainability (in its new principles),” Hanson continued.

“To say after almost eight years ‘You know we don’t like it, we want to tell you what the rules are’, — that’s just the old bully-boy approach.”

Hanson said it’s clear the government has no intention of fulfilling its obligations under the land claim agreements.

The Yukon Conservation Society (YCS) and Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society (CPAWS) Yukon chapter were singing the same tune at a press conference yesterday.

“Now we know why the Yukon Party has never clearly expressed its vision for the Peel, either to the public or the Peel commission. It doesn’t have a vision. It wants business as usual, and it thinks it can do what it wants to in the Peel, anyway,” said Mike Dehn, executive director of CPAWS.

Karen Baltgailis, YCS’s executive director, said that if the government didn’t like the commission’s principles, it had plenty of time to object.

“Let’s be frank. What the government wants to do is gut seven years of hard work, collaboration and compromise to open the Peel to industrial development,” she said.

Chiefs from the four affected First Nations were told of the principles in a meeting with the government Tuesday. The First Nations have not yet commented on the government’s announcement.