Christine Lowther resides in ƛaʔuukwiiʔath (Tla-o-qui-aht) ha’huulthii in Nuučaańuł (Nuu-chah-nulth) territory on Vancouver Island. She is the author of four poetry collections, most recently Hazard, Home. Her memoir Born Out of This won the FBCW 2015 Nonfiction Prize. She was also shortlisted for the 2023 CBC Nonfiction Prize.
Blockade by West Coast activist Christine Lowther showcases the need to defend remnant intact crucial ecosystems with the Indigenous peoples whose ancestral gardens these lands are. It is a rallying cry for all those who stand up for the natural world and a roadmap for future generations of defenders
Interviewed by Mike Andrew McLean
Mike Andrew McLean (MAM): It has been over 30 years since the initial direct actions in defence of the ancient forests in Kaxi:ks (the Walbran Valley) and Tla-o-qui-aht (Clayoquot Sound) occurred. How has advocacy for the protection of the living world changed, and what remains constant? Is direct action still the most effective way for us to have our voices heard?
Christine Lowther (CL): The internet has led to many causes landing in our email in-boxes daily. It’s harder for multinational corporations to hide what they are doing, and once they are found out, the entire world may know. We have the power to send donations to numerous causes, and certainly we can electronically sign dozens of petitions: every day. Labelling it “clicktivism” should not negate it.
One way to ascertain how advocacy and activism have changed since the early nineties is to look at some of the spokespeople we had on the actions at Clayoquot Arm and Kennedy Bridges. At the time, even while running camps and daily blockades, those activists were discussing how to target markets and launch the first boycotts of corporations’ customers. This strategy blossomed into being hugely impactful. Some of our leaders started an organization currently called Canopy, which decades ago got the Canadian editions of the Harry Potter series printed on 100% ancient-forest-free paper, later focussed on packaging in general (a huge planetary scourge), and now works to steer the international fashion industry away from forest-harming practices. Every year, 3.4 billion trees are cut down to make paper packaging and fabrics such as rayon and viscose. Canopy works with more than 900 brand partners to change that.
Another organization to emerge from those early blockades is Stand.earth (formerly ForestEthics). Stand.earth uses protest, data and research to transform industries and is running globally leading climate campaigns on transforming cities, the shipping industry, and against expansion of fracked gas. So it’s more than succeeding in having our voices heard. It’s about actually stepping up and making change. The recent protection of much of Tlaoquiat/Clayoquot Sound is due to activism and Indigenous nations owning their strength.
What has remained constant, unfortunately, is over-consumption and the tired “jobs vs. environment” red herring. Fear of nature, too, and ignoring the blatant danger signals of climate change. As for direct action, is it “the best way”? There is no best way. We must do everything, on all levels. It’s a crisis. Sometimes direct action is the right strategy. Sometimes negotiations are the right strategy. Sometimes other strategies. Growing food and pollinator gardens, eating locally, buying second-hand, shrinking our footprint, reducing travel, crafting an affordable rain water catchment system, supporting the fossil fuel non-proliferation treaty, learning about Wildlife Trees, seeking a second arborist’s opinion, whatever. Decolonize, decarbonize, drive less. Another impactful global group, Extinction Rebellion, reminds us that “there are countless ways to fight back.”
When I first heard of blockades 35 years ago, I felt relieved, excited, and hopeful. I had already spent years of my young life gathering signatures, writing letters and articles, attending marches and rallies. But logging (or animal abuse, or cruise missile testing, or factory farms) simply continued. A polite, informed, passionate email or handwritten letter to one’s government representative is always at our finger tips. Direct action is another kind of immediate—it forces clearcutting to a halt, at least until the logging company can apply to the courts for an injunction. And as fascism gains strength over Turtle Island, where the climate crisis continues all but ignored except by those unlucky enough to experience it first-hand, any and all action is more urgent. The trick is to not allow the police to scare us off.
MAM: During a mid-August family trip to Načiks (Tofino) and Yuułuʔiłʔatḥ (Ucluelet) I was struck by how prolific and omnipresent the notion of eco-tourism has become. Having lived in Clayoquot Sound now for decades, what are your thoughts about this phenomenon and how does it help or hinder the cause of protecting old growth forests?
CL: Like Ucluelet, settler-Tofino was a logging and fishing town. A bakery owner and a kayaking business owner were concerned that the incredible mountain view from downtown Tofino was under threat by clearcutting, and that their livelihoods would suffer when visitors arrived to see a trashed landscape. When they started looking more deeply into the industry, they found out fast that the viewscape was the least of their worries.
Travel is one of the biggest carbon footprints for individuals and families. I am no expert on ecotourism, but it does raise awareness about wild inhabitants who need a sound, clean, healthy, protected habitat. So, it looked like the choices were clearcutting Wanačis-Hiɫthuuʔis (Meares Island) or hosting visitors who might end up caring enough about nature to help protect it. At the same time, ecotourism might also give the false impression that a place is wholly protected/ “saved.” Do the Indigenous nations still reside on their land? When you were here, did you notice the Tribal Parks Allies program? Businesses that profit from this place provide 1% of their gain to the Tlaoquiaht. There is also the Maaqutusiis Hahoulthee Stewardship Society, calling for respect from tourists and businesses to the Ahousaht people.
One of the worst side-effects of tourism has been the local housing crisis. A town hosting visitors needs workers to run it. But those workers need a roof. A huge swath of ƛaakašiis, Tonquin Forest was destroyed to build “affordable” apartments. Will there be more of this? Or can any of these pesky BnBs be repurposed. Ecotourism doesn’t address every issue. Some visitors or newcomers to the area don’t know about its history. They don’t know about the people who saved that view—settlers and Indigenous uniting, standing up to the company and the cops. I’m glad Blockade is available at the Visitor Information Centre!
MAM: Our above-mentioned visit to Clayoquot Sound was bookended by two wildfires (the Wesley Ridge and Mount Underwood wildfires totalling over 4000 hectares burned in less than two weeks). We well know the frequency and severity of such occurrences in woodlands is increasing at an exponential rate and that remaining old growth forests sequester massive amounts of atmospheric carbon. Given the severity of recent weather events and their connection to mass deforestation, what is the importance of telling your story now?
CL: The book is a reminder of how desperately people all over the world wanted (and still want) to protect and preserve ancient temperate rainforests; now that fires are claiming more and more forests across Canada, the climate crisis is a new battle front. Fairy Creek reminded me that we still need to blockade, so I use that title of the book as a verb. That bakery owner I mentioned earlier inspired me to re-read my manuscript, which is taken directly from my journals up to 1997. I found that it was not only still relevant, but important. As I type these words today, there is a new blockade in the Walbran/Kaxi:ks. They have built a large wooden cougar sculpture to help barricade the road. We need more than ever to protect and defend; so much has been lost to wildfires now.
“Politicians want to prevent more fires/ by pulling out the understorey, / turning Turtle Island’s habitats/ into lungless brown-mossed parks.” ~from my poem “More perilous than a leaning tree”. There are always new excuses to continue cutting. The motive has never changed: short-term profit. As Marcia Bjornerud writes, “resource extraction briefly generates immense wealth for a small number of people but leaves an impoverished world for those who follow.” And now it is being said that clearcutting will prevent more wildfires. The opposite is the case. Our best bet long-term is to switch from fossil fuels (calling out the corporations) while defending the world’s forests. Trees make shade and rain. They cool the air. They are the homes of countless species sharing the planet with us. We ourselves cannot live without them. I’ve lived in the Sound for 33 years and have noticed plenty of change. We used to wear fleece all summer; we experienced minimal heat waves. It rained a lot more once autumn descended. Even the rainforest here experiences drought now. Gardening requires rapid and constant adaptation. And yet thousands of trees were cut down to make way for a multi-use path between Tofino and Ucluelet. If the forests for which we were arrested burn, they were still worth it.
MAM: Victoria is known widely as the garden city and undoubtedly many people reading this Q&A will have a keen interest in horticultural pursuits. Through our conversations, I know that you are committed garden tender, and yours happens to be located in a rather unique geographical location. Does the act of gardening ever inform your writing?
CL: Yes! Or rather, plants, composting, and bees visiting flowers: these sometimes appear in my writing. I live more than half the year in a floatshack and grow a pollinator garden in containers on a floating deck. But it’s wild plants that really fascinate me.
MAM: After reading Blockade, I have come to learn that you were Poet Laureate of Tofino from 2020-2022, and that many of the books you’ve written and edited in the past are poetry collections. Do you need to do a “mind-shift” when switching between poetry and prose and when you start a new project do you automatically know the form your words will take?
CL: I probably should do a mind-shift when switching. When I’m deeply into a prose project I long for poetry. What Evelyn Lau says is true: prose gets more readers. Canadians still don’t read much poetry, comparatively. Anyway the nature of the project tends to dictate the form. I have lost a lot of flow since quitting journaling. I kept a journal since the age of ten and it petered out during Covid. I have issues with my hands and wrists. But truly, journaling helps, doesn’t it, in all forms of writing. Amongst the dross appear lines or ideas with potential, brightly waving like flags of cotton-grass blooms.