#eeco586

What really resonated with me from Tammy's talk at the Tofino Ecolodge was her statement that “we're tired of reacting” -- “we” referencing her nation, the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation (T. Dorward, personal communication, July 29, 2016).  In not “reacting” but rather, asserting their rights, she explained that the Tla-o-qui-aht's goal is to move forward in creating self-directed long-term strategic plans rather than waiting for a top-down approach from the Canadian federal government (T. Dorward, personal communication, July 29, 2016). 

Later in the day, Johanna made a presentation on an Inuit land claim with the Canadian federal government in Labrador that went on for a long 28 years with power politics still in play to this day.  Her statement that “settler politics still play out” was an apt summation of how social contracts, including the ones mentioned above have the power to create long-term duress, trauma and suffering for the citizens they're intended to benefit (J. Wolf, personal communication, July 29, 2016).  

This gave me much food for thought as someone who has worked in the government sector for most of my career.  I've been responsible for implementing what I would deem to be social contracts in the form of government services and programs that are offered to citizens (albeit not of the oppressive and harmful sort experienced by the First Nations and Inuit communities above).  From my experience and observations, it seems like when there is a disjunct between good intentions and poor implementation of a social contract that do not reflect sound social-ecological principles, there are some key elements that need to be taken into consideration, which I'll briefly chat about below.

Listening

In Anita's presentation at the Yuułuʔiłʔatḥ Government House, she suggested that one way to heal from trauma is to give voice to those who have been through a traumatic ordeal (A. Charleston, personal communication, July 27, 2016).  It would seem to me that a good listener is fundamental as part of that healing.  I've witnessed many social contracts where too often, the modus operandi is for a government to do cursory engagement with an established outcome in mind, create a plan of action internally, and present that plan of action to an unimpressed citizenry while backtracking and/or making revisions after the fact.

I'll be the first to acknowledge that it can be difficult to do public engagement with a large population but often engagement fails to really pick up on deeply listening to people's needs.  I believe that truly listening to needs, aspirations, and concerns – while realizing that one's desired outcome may not materialize and that often there is a need to take a chance and pioneer new ways of acting – creates solutions in context that have a better chance in succeeding.

Empowerment

Social contracts seem to me to have a degree of an imposing/passively accepting dynamic in terms of the government/citizen relationships they forge.  It makes me wonder where the space is for citizens to be engaged with and active participants in the creation of these contracts. 

While I've encountered many cases of engagement fatigue from citizens who are tired of being asked to engage in and contribute to government calls for their opinions, part of me wonders if it is because these calls are still top down and not reflecting opportunities for citizens to become active participants of change.  It feels like there is a need to give citizens more power in the decision-making process and to lessen bureaucratic red tape in order for them to do.  I think this is a good example of what Leach et al call a need for “far greater recognition and power to grassroots innovation actors and processes, involving them within an inclusive, multi-scale innovation politics” (Leach et al, 2012, no page).

Attention to Details

Lastly, some social contracts I've seen start off with well-intentioned and often, lofty visions and principles.  However, at the implementation stage, these visions and principles are lost or a shadow of themselves.  I would say that fine-grained detailed steps with political will, citizen support, financial backing, and realistic time frames and expectations attached to them are essential to bridging visions with on-the-ground action.  Details are often problematic to work out and it would be easier to resort to one-fits-all solutions but they are crucial to making or breaking a project.  

References

The Resilience of a Nation

Prior to Friday I had not fully understood what the term Social Contract meant. Citizens of a nation do not sign any documents or vote via a poll. Rather they implicitly consent to the terms and conditions of the contract implicitly, by simply being, and holding their nations’ passport (personal communications, Johanna Wolf, July 30th, 2016). In theory, social contracts are mutually beneficial, like a symbiotic relationship of sorts; where citizens accept responsibilities, such as paying taxes and obeying rules, in exchange for protection by the state (eg. education, healthcare, etc.) (O’Brian, Hayward, Berkes, 2009, p. 2). These very contracts have been presented as both a cause of social and environmental problems as well as possible solutions (Milliband, 2006, as cited by O’Brian, Hayward, Berkes, 2009, p. 1).

Possible social issues arise from the contract’s legitimised unequal distribution of power and the fact that people who never consented (eg. marginalised people and future generations) cannot exclude themselves from negative effects (personal communications, Johanna Wolf, July 30th, 2016). For example, Terry from the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nations powerfully recounted how his ancestors where put on reserves and forced into the “Canadian System” (personal communications, Terry, July 30th, 2016). Without consideration, their language, values and culture where striped from their being, causing multi-generational trauma and disconnect.

Years later the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nations (TFN) are reclaiming their rights, reclaiming their lands and reclaiming their voice. In 1984 the TFN declared Meares Island a Tribal Park, a designation on their Ha’huulthii (territories) that is managed by the nation to better harmonize human needs and environmental well-being (Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Parks, 2013). According to Torrance Coste of the Wilderness Committee (2013), Tribal Parks are designed to keep economic benefits within First Nations and local communities, which is a critical step in achieving sustainability on the west coast (Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Parks). Further, the Tribal Park is in direct contrast to the multinational industries - destructive logging, fish farms and mining – that operate throughout the region.

The development of the Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Park, positions the TFN in a unique situation and provides many opportunities to begin a new path – a healing path of decolonization. Joe Martin (2013) sees the Tribal Park as a way to use the land their way, to unite, and use the resources of the forest in ways similar to their ancestors (Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Parks). Recognizing the rights and responsibilities of future generations within social contract is critical (O’Brian, Hayward, Berkes, 2009, p. 4); thus sustainably managing natural resources and creating viable economic investments to establish a healthy community is of utmost importance for the TFN.

Economic investments from Lisaak Forest Products, a forestry company owned and operated by the TFN for local needs to the virtually limitless eco-tourism opportunities throughout the region, is proving that economic needs can be met while reducing the impact on the environment (Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Parks, 2013).

Across the globe there is new urgency to find ways to navigate a safe operating space for humanity from the bottom up and embrace local action in multi-scale approaches (Leach et al. 2012, p. 3). Through their dedication, strength and resilience the TFN have shown how much influence a bottom-up approach can have – the Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Park is a testament to this nation’s spirit and a beacon of their bright future.

As the nation continues to gain momentum and the story of the Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Park unfolds, I hope that other nations, organizations, neighbourhoods, and individuals seeking change will begin to create it. The current ‘invisible” social contract needs a rewrite, a rewrite to mend social issues, heal communities and protect the environment upon which we all depend.

 References:

Leach, M., Rockstrom, J., Raskin. P., Scoones. I., Striling. A., Smith. A., Thompson. J., Millstone. E., Ely. A., Around. E., Folke. C., Olsson. P. (2012). Transforming innovation for sustainability. Ecology and Society. 17(2)

O’Brian. K., Hayward. B., Berkes. F. (2009). Rethinking social contracts: Building resilience in a changing climate. Ecology and Society. 14(2).

Tla-o-qui-aht Tribal Parks. (2013). Retrieved from: https://www.wildernesscommittee.org/sites/all/files/publications/2013_tla-o-qui-aht_Paper-Web-2.pdf

Tofino Botanical Gardens

If you dig a little deeper, and look beyond the spas set on rocky cliffs and the postcard views of crashing waves, you’ll find that many people living in the small communities on the West Coast of Vancouver Island aren’t just residents, they’re citizens. Those we met over the course of our week studying socio-ecological change in the Clayoquot Sound Biosphere Reserve—like Terry Dorward, Anita Charleson-Touchie, George Patterson, and Laura Loucks—don’t just live in Tofino or Ucluelet, they are active participants and key drivers of change in the community system. This concept of citizenry, as highlighted for us by Dr. Rick Kool (personal communication, July 26, 2016), is characterized by an engaged manner of living in community, and is a significant strategy for renegotiating social contracts to better reflect social-ecological resilience principles.

Seated at a long outdoor table, framed by drying garlic bulbs, full summer blossoms, and tall cedars, we had the pleasure of meeting George Patterson, founder of Tofino Botanical Gardens and something of a local legend. Patterson captivated us with tales of early Tofino days, when waterfront land could be purchased in the mere tens of thousands of dollars. At that time, there was little hint of the worldwide tourist destination the town would someday become. He described how the lush, artistic botanical gardens, had once been an unwanted 17-acre, clear-cut plot of land on the market for 3 years before he purchased it. Patterson explained how he envisioned creating a place that could pay tribute to the memories of transformative action to change forestry practices in Clayoquot Sound—known as the “War in the Woods” and defined as the largest civil disobedience movement in Canadian history. 

This struck me as a beautiful concept: a living place to embody the successful renegotiation of social contracts that took place at a specific time in history. I was moved by this extremely inventive creation, which allows visitors to the region to learn and reflect on the type of positive change that a motivated citizenry can generate. And the garden, in turn, creates a feedback loop, seeding these concepts—engagement, citizenry, change, socio-ecological balance—in others so they may bring them forth in their own communities.

When Patterson was forming his vision of a botanical garden or proposing that the region might be designated a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve, he was acting as a citizen. In his own way, he was nudging the social contract to transform. There was no guarantee for Patterson or others in the region that change would occur as a result of their actions. But through interaction with a system, an engaged citizen acts as an lever point, making new connections and bringing new energy to an existing structure. Adger highlights the importance of these links: “Interconnected communities need to function effectively across all levels, and this requires both horizontal and vertical links. These links can provide for the flow of knowledge, learning, and other resources, and may facilitate more inclusive, participatory, and democratic decision making” (Leach et al., 2012). Patterson’s work is a extraordinary example of these links, particularly of how global connections can provide feedback to the local: the film Striking Balance: Change in West Coast Communities describes how a trip to Costa Rica, and observing that country’s biosphere reserve, inspired Patterson to suggest a similar model for the Clayoquot region. The eventually creation of the Clayoquot Biosphere Rerserve and the network of many different people and groups living and working within it, though not perfect, is an inspiring reflection of how citizenry can renew the social contract.

How can social contracts be renegotiated to better reflect social-ecological resilience principles?

An art installation at the Tofino Botanical Gardens. 

Social Contracts

We Canadians are all part of a social contract, and whether you like it or not, are constrained within its rulebooks.

A social contact; an implicate agreement between government and its citizens. The contract, which by being Canadian you have consented to, includes the benefits and responsibilities (ex. Healthcare and taxes). The darker side can be your implicit involvement in the governments activities, even if you don’t agree. There is no voiding the contract.

Social-Ecological Resiliency

The Stockholm Institute affirms social and ecological systems as inexplicitly linked, that “humans must be seen as part of nature… that the delineation between social and ecological systems is artificial and arbitrary”. They define resiliency as “the capacity to deal with change and continue to develop” (Definition Links).

So how do we keep our earth; the system which contains all people and all our life supports healthy while dealing with global change? The Stockholm Institute’s “Applying resilience thinking: Seven principles for building resilience in social-ecological systems” suggests 7 basic principles:

1) maintain diversity and redundancy, 2) manage connectivity, 3) manage slow variables and feedbacks, 4) foster complex adaptive systems thinking, 5) encourage learning, 6) broaden participation, and 7) promote polycentric governance systems.

As I am in a MA for Environmental Education and Communication, I will take a closer look into the 5th principle of encouraging learning. This report suggests that education in resiliency should engage a variety of participants in a way that allows them to share their knowledge and interact for an extended period of time. People must feel safe and supported with the right resources in order to take on new, and sometimes difficult problems. Environmental Education can help accomplish this sort of education in place-based learning. Educators can enable people to make change in their local communities.

Social Contracts + Social-Ecological Resiliency

So how do we combine these two seemingly different things- social contracts which are stiff and longstanding with the fluidity of social-ecological resiliency?

Well, I suggest that we have to demand it. There are countless social movements, NGOs, entrepreneurs, city councils and citizens across the country who are changing the status quo. Once such example came up at a presentation by John* of the Tlaoquiaht First Nation (*Name changed to ensure privacy). The Tlaoguiaht First Nation (TFN) have never settled a treaty with the Canadian government. However, they are under the Canadian social contract and are subjected to laws such as those under the Indian Act (while still living on their unseeded traditional territory).   There are two nations and two sets of rules on the surrounding territory; that of the government of Canada, and that of the Tlaoquiaht First Nation.  John is consciously breaking the social contract with Canada by building a cabin on ‘crown land’. To him, that land is for him and his TFN people.  

The Indigenous People of Canada didn’t have a choice to join this contract, and neither do the future generations of any background. We need to be able to adapt to the changing times, and citizens need to be engaged in order to demand it.  

Finally, is there a way we can encourage more Canadians to be involved in forging the new contract? Are most people even aware of their consent? Are education programs sufficient? Or, what if all Canadians had to sign-up to be a member? New Canadians such as immigrants have to take a test and an oath to become Canadian. What if we all had to do that? Would we be more informed, more involved? It could be a rights of passage for young engaged citizens.  

Over the past year in my Environmental Education Master’s program I’ve spent some time thinking about ‘systems’. You know, like ecosystems, social systems, digestive systems, the solar system – all those things with system in the name. The neat thing about systems is that there are similarities across the different kinds. Although seemingly unrelated, a digestive system shares features with an ecosystem or a justice system. One of these shared features is the concept of a ‘tipping point’ – the point at which the system is altered so drastically, it changes completely in structure and function. Also called a ‘boundary threshold’, this can cause some systems to collapse completely, while others may be resilient enough to bounce back from the disturbance (Holling 1986). Whether it’s a social or ecological system, restoration and reparation can help a system rebound to a stable or healthy state.

I’ve spent the past few days with my class near Ucluelet, British Columbia, living and learning in the community of Hitacu (pronounced Hit-tat-soo), within traditional Nuu-Chah-Nulth Nation territory. I feel so, so grateful for our group to have been welcomed into this place, where social and ecological systems are so inextricably interwoven. The learning experiences have been plentiful and powerful, whether touring a forest regeneration site or listening to the wisdom of elders in the community, many of them residential school survivors.

In reflecting on people and place, I observe similarities emerging; in particular, the dramatic and transformative changes that have occurred in both social and ecological systems in this area. Within both, there are boundaries that have been tested, pushed, and crossed – leading to tipping points and incredible shifts in the ability of systems to function.

We walked through cool and moist* forests near Lost Shoe Creek with Mandela Smulders of the Central WestCoast Forest Society. Their group is contributing to a massive effort of forest restoration in response to years of ecosystem disturbance and decimation from clear-cutting. For thousands of years prior to the clear-cutting, these forests were used with care by the Nuu-Chah-Nulth people. Now, in order to help the forest re-grow from logging and reach a stable, mature state, workers plant long-lived, slow-growing species like Douglas Fir, and thin the canopy branches to allow light to reach the forest floor. These efforts require an intense awareness of the broken boundaries of the ecosystem and a dedicated commitment to reparation.

The day after walking in the forest, we were introduced to Anita Charleson Touchie, a counsellor for the Nuu-Chah-Nulth Tribal Council. She led us through a workshop on inter-generational trauma, where we discussed the real and deep pain carried by generations following traumatic events. For her and many other First Nations people, this means the lasting effect of colonization, systemic oppression, racism, the Indian Act, and residential schools. Languages and land have been lost, cultural practices banned, and entire communities altered. The social and cultural systems of First Nations have been pushed far past their tipping point, and Anita spoke of the importance of acknowledging, remembering, grieving, and forgiving to work with this pain both individually and collectively.

My time on the west coast has had a profound effect on my understanding of pain, loss, resilience, and recovery. As I walk the paths in the forest and reflect on the pain and suffering of the social and ecological systems here, I am reminded of the interconnectedness of people and place, or as we have been taught this week, ‘hiishookish tsawalk’, meaning ‘everything is one’.

I recently spent an evening in the setting sun with my family  on Wickaninnish Beach on the West Coast of Vancouver Island. In the surreal mist and light filtering down through layers of clouds, we walked on hard packed sand through smooth stones and driftwood, which provided endless fun for my five-year-old son. In a place so naturally majestic and wild, the current global stressors that we’re facing seemed very far away. As we walked through the deep soft sand on the upper foreshore, my husband picked up a long, blonde piece of driftwood and tried to balance it on top of another perpendicular piece of wood poking out of the sand. On the third or fourth try, the wood finally swayed on it’s perch, finding a precarious balance. We lingered for a moment to watch it, knowing that at some time after we walked away, the wind or another beach-goer would knock it down.

Observing the vulnerable equilibrium of the driftwood reminded me of the many communities and ecosystems under stress—those that Loucks describes as pushing up against the edges of their boundaries (personal communication, July 25, 2016). Along with my fellow RRU graduate students, I’ve been contemplating First Nations relationships with the environment over the course of our stay at the Yuułuʔiłʔatḥ (Ucluelet) First Nations Reserve in the self-governed community of Hitacu. Reflecting on my own worldview and how it shapes my interaction with the systems around me, I notice that Western worldviews, which currently emphasize the primacy of individual needs over the shared resources of the commons, threaten system boundary thresholds. Consumption patterns that favour an individual’s unlimited use of resources, rather than ecosystem protection, can lead to ecosystem disruption.

A First Nations worldview, which focuses more on interconnectivity than individual needs, offers a pathway to restore and repair strained communities and ecosystems. McKeon urges environmental educators to embrace this shift, “The severity of the global ecological crisis require a radical departure from current global Western-dominated knowledge and education models” (2012, p. 145). Here on the West Coast, counselor and healer Anita Charleson-Touchie describes a Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations worldview that embodies the concept of hiishooksih tswalk: everything is one, and everything is connected (personal communication, July 27, 2016). Touchie explains to our group that this worldview explores the interplay between all levels of reality—self, family, community, nature, and spirit.

Today, on the same beach I visited a few nights ago with my family, we sat in an informal outdoor classroom, grateful for a learning space in which to breathe the fresh Pacific Ocean air, gaze at the movement of clouds and discuss our thoughts on a path forward, while the many boundary thresholds and the consequences of passing them hovered on the periphery of our awareness. Our classroom felt far from the constricting walls of institutionalized Western learning that directs student on a path of individual career choices that will eventually enable them to engage in modern consumption levels. Here in Nuu-chah-nulth territory, we are becoming immersed in the worldview that “the universe is unified, interconnected, and interrelated” (Atleo, 2005, p. xix).

When we returned from our beach session, we met Gordon, a Yuułuʔiłʔatḥ elder, at the front door of the community centre. He inquired about our outing, and when I told him we visited Wickaninnish Beach, he gently corrected me, telling me that the name is Kwisitis. Then he shared his stories with us, his memories of family picnics on Kwistis Beach—fresh bannock rising, salmon fillets on stakes around a fire and clams with kelp buried in the sand under smoldering coals (Gordon, personal communication, July 27, 2016). I listened. And as I listened I realized that although we are from different worlds, we are up against many of the same boundary thresholds. We are, in fact, interconnected.

References

Atleo, E. R. (2005). Tsawalk. Vancouver, CA: UBC Press. Retrieved from http://www.ebrary.com