POLITICO MAGAZINE EXCERPT

When the Left Attacked the Capitol

Fifty years ago, extremists bombed the seat of American democracy to end a war and start a revolution. It did neither, but it may have helped bring down a president.


Getty Images, AP, iStock / POLITICO illustration

By LAWRENCE ROBERTS

02/28/2021

Lawrence Roberts, a former editor for the Washington Post and ProPublica, is the author of MAYDAY 1971: A White House at War, a Revolt in the Streets, and the Untold History of America’s Biggest Mass Arrest.


In the winter of 1971, you could still find vestiges of an age of innocence in Washington. The previous decade had been one of the most unstable in the country’s history, rocked by political assassinations, racial violence and explosions at public buildings. But at the U.S. Capitol, it was still easy to stroll through without having to empty your pockets or show a driver’s license. No metal detectors or security cameras. You didn’t need to join a tour. Which is why two young people who melted into the crowd of sightseers were free to scour the building for a safe spot to set their bomb.

They were members of the Weather Underground. Since 1969, the radical left group had already bombed several police targets, banks and courthouses around the country, acts they hoped would instigate an uprising against the government. Now two of these self-described revolutionaries wandered the halls with sticks of dynamite strapped under their clothing. They slipped into an unmarked marble-lined men’s bathroom one floor below the Senate chamber. They hooked up a fuse attached to a stopwatch and stuffed the device behind a 5-foot-high wall.


Shortly before 1 a.m. on March 1, the phone call came into the Capitol switchboard. The overnight operator remembered it as a man’s voice, low and hard: “This is real. Evacuate the building immediately.”

It exploded at 1:32 a.m. No one was hurt, but damage was extensive. The blast tore the bathroom wall apart, shattering sinks into shrapnel. Shock waves blew the swinging doors off the entrance to the Senate barbershop. The doors crashed through a window and sailed into a courtyard. Along the corridor, light fixtures, plaster and tile cracked. In the Senate dining room, panes fell from a stained-glass window depicting George Washington greeting two Revolutionary War heroes, the Marquis de Lafayette and Baron von Steuben. Both Europeans lost their heads.




Workers begin the job of cleaning up debris in a hallway on the Senate side of the Capitol on March 1, 1971, following the explosion of a bomb nearby. Officials reported extensive damage but no injuries. | AP Photo

Shocked lawmakers condemned the attack. Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield (D-Montana), called it an “outrageous and sacrilegious” hit on a “public shrine.” House Speaker Carl Albert (D-Oklahoma) said the bombing was “doubly sad” because it would likely lead to tighter security at the Capitol and less freedom for visitors. The Washington Post’s editorial page lamented “the easy contagion of extremism in a time of dark frustrations and deep disillusionment.”

Fifty years later, we find the nation assessing the physical and psychic wreckage left by another Capitol attack, this one at the hands of the radical right. It would be wrong to give these events equal weight on the historical scale, to simply regard them as insurrections from opposite ends of the spectrum. Dangerous and criminal as it was, the bombing amounted to a kind of guerrilla theater, a symbolic destruction of federal property to protest the disastrous military intervention in Vietnam. The Jan. 6 mob that ransacked the Capitol, causing five deaths, embodied a far more perilous delusion: that a national election was fraudulent and should be overturned with threats and violence against lawmakers. “Stop the War” versus “Stop the Steal.”

Still, the attacks do share historical context. Each arose from a cauldron of political polarization and distrust of government. They were carried out by splinter groups that had abandoned faith in American democracy and would have been pleased to see the system collapse. Both led to heightened security in Washington. Thus it may be valuable to examine the events of 1971, and what lessons those days may hold for our new era of extremism.

One big difference is that the 1971 attack was meant to oppose, not support, the sitting president, Richard Nixon. Another is that the case remains cold. While the pro-Trump mob stormed the Capitol in broad daylight, their faces captured by security cameras, their own social media feeds or witnesses with smartphones, the Weather Underground set the bomb in secret. Members were much harder to track down, since they lived together in small cells under false identities.

The radical group gave the action a code name: Big Top. At first, it looked like a failure.

It’s unusual that we know so much about this particular attack. Even now, ex-Weather members appear to honor an omertà about their activities. Perhaps it was youthful pride that led them to reconstruct the caper in the mid-1970s for the documentary “Underground,” directed by Emile de Antonio. They identified themselves by name, while keeping their faces obscured. Over the years, additional details have emerged from associates, friends and relatives of the bombers, who spilled anonymously to historians and authors including Susan Braudy (Family Circle: The Boudins and the Aristocracy of the Left), Ron Jacobs (The Way the Wind Blows), Bryan Burrough (Days of Rage) and Peter Collier and David Horowitz (Destructive Generation).

So we know Big Top became a project for two teams. One team posed as tourists and scouted the building. A trash can? A closet? A tunnel? Finally, they found the 5-foot wall. Full of dust, so it probably wasn’t checked regularly. On Saturday, February 27, 1971, the two members of the other team strapped the dynamite and timer to their bodies and assembled the device in the bathroom. As they lifted it into its hiding place, it didn’t sit securely. “There was a ledge where the people who did it thought there had been a shelf,” Weather member Jeff Jones explained in the documentary. “It fell several feet.” After a sickening few seconds, they let out their breath. The bomb appeared intact, still set to go at 1:30 a.m. They left the building.



Top: George M. White, newly named architect of the Capitol, talks of damage to the building during a Senate Public Works subcommittee hearing, investigating the recent bombing, in Washington on March 2, 1971. Bottom left: Sen. Lowell Weicker Jr., R-Conn., stands in crater blasted out of a Senate washroom in the Capitol, on March 1, 1971, as he talks with Chief James Powell of the Capitol Police. Bottom right: Sen. Robert Dole, R-Kan., discussed Senate security at a news conference on March 9, 1971, in St. Louis, after the explosion in the U.S. Capitol. | AP Photos


The group had mailed copies of a letter to the New York Post and The Associated Press, taking responsibility. Sent by special delivery, it carried the group’s logo, a rainbow with a lightning bolt. That night, they placed their warning call. The Capitol police searched, found nothing. Zero hour came and went, and no bomb exploded. The fall must have broken the timer.

“So the organizers had a series of quick calls around the country and came up with a plan,” Jones said, “which was to take a much smaller device and go back in, and put it on top of the one that had been put there the day before. Sort of like a little starter motor.”

The next day, Sunday, the bombers returned, placed the new device, and called the switchboard again. U.S. Capitol Police searched as many rooms as they could in half an hour. According to an FBI report, one man checked the bathroom that held the bomb, saw nothing, and moved on. Only seven minutes later, it blew. Damage was estimated to be at least $100,000, equivalent to $650,000 today. (This week, officials put the cost of the Jan. 6 riot at $30 million.)

Neither Jones nor anyone else in the documentary named the bombers. However, at least three published accounts have identified them as two women then in their late 20s—Kathy Boudin, one of the survivors of the Greenwich Village explosion, and Bernardine Dohrn, a graduate of the University of Chicago’s law school whose looks, brains and take-no-prisoners attitude had made her a romantic icon within the left. Neither Boudin nor Dohrn has publicly admitted or denied placing the Capitol bomb. Neither responded to questions for this article.

According to Destructive Generation, it was Dohrn who called Rennie Davis in 1971. A few years ago, I visited Davis at his Colorado home as I researched my book MAYDAY 1971, about the clash between Nixon and the antiwar movement. His memories of the old days were generally quite sharp, except when it came to the Capitol bomb. He confirmed he’d been alerted about the attack in advance, but said he wasn’t told where or when it would blow. He also said he didn’t remember who called him, and he didn’t recall, if he ever knew, who actually placed the device. Davis died earlier this month from cancer, at the age of 80.

Three days after the bombing, Dohrn, already on the FBI’s most-wanted list for other crimes, nearly had been captured in the Bay Area, when she and others picked up some money wired to a Western Union office. A federal agent recognized them, but they sped away and later switched cars to elude the authorities. One of the drivers was Rennie’s brother John. His were among the fingerprints the FBI later found in a San Francisco apartment where the band had been handling explosives.

But the bureau hadn’t identified Dohrn as one of the possible Capitol bombers. The FBI and Justice Department remained focused on Washington.

As recent events have borne out, the federal government often underreacts to perceived security threats from the right and overreacts to those coming from the left.

The 1971 bomb blew at a crucial moment for Richard Nixon. On that particular morning he was winging his way to Iowa to shore up political support in the heartland. The president was struggling politically, his approval rating dropping. Republicans had lost a slew of congressional seats and governorships in the 1970 midterms, despite Nixon’s hope that moderates would approve the way he was handling the Vietnam War—stepping up the fighting while slowly withdrawing U.S. troops. Next year’s reelection campaign was looking fierce; polls showed him trailing the presumed leader among the Democratic challengers, Senator Edmund Muskie of Maine.

Nixon had largely built his career on antipathy to liberals and the left, and he didn’t need any additional fuel for his visceral distaste of the antiwar movement. A successful Spring Offensive threatened to not only complicate his Vietnam policies, and thus his second term, but also could distract from his grand plan to reopen diplomatic ties with China and remake the Cold War world.

One of his aides, Egil “Bud” Krogh Jr., who would later run the notorious White House “Plumbers” unit that plugged damaging leaks to the media and sought to undermine the president’s opponents, fired off a memo suggesting the Capitol bomb could be a rare opportunity. Handled right, it might counter the trend of “softer” support for the administration’s Vietnam policies from “middle of the road Americans.” The explosion, wrote Krogh, “is a chance for us to point out that we have not been tough for nothing. A bomb detonating in the breast of the Senate is as close as one can get to the heart of super-liberal thought in this government.”

Early in his presidency, Nixon had urged the FBI and Justice Departments to crack down harder on the antiwar movement, even contemplating giving written approval to illegal tactics such as burglarizing the homes and offices of activists. Before the Spring Offensive, Attorney General John Mitchell insisted the protests would turn out to be violent, no matter what organizers said. He secretly authorized warrantless wiretaps on the Mayday Tribe and three other groups. Now, the bombing fed the president’s belief that there wasn’t much difference between underground militants and peaceful protesters. Reporting to Nixon on the FBI’s hunt for the bombers, his chief domestic policy adviser listed the suspects: “It’s the Bernadette (sic) Dohrn, Rennie Davis bunch.”

The FBI shifted agents from all parts of the Washington field office to the case. They tailed Mayday activists, including four young people who drove north the day after the bombing, finally stopping them on a Pennsylvania highway. The agents, brandishing shotguns, searched their car but found no reason to detain them.

After all the investigating, only one person was taken into custody in connection with the bombing. She was a tall 19-year-old blonde from California named Leslie Bacon, who had been helping book musicians for the rallies. The FBI found witnesses who said they saw Bacon in the Capitol the day before the blast. When she denied it, she was charged with lying to the grand jury. Weather wrote an open letter to Bacon’s mother, saying she was innocent: “Mrs. Bacon, we cannot turn ourselves in to save Leslie. She is a committed revolutionary and understands this.”

At least a dozen other activists were subpoenaed before grand juries in New York, Detroit and Washington. All refused to answer questions. Some taunted the feds, like Judy Gumbo Albert, the driver of the car stopped in Pennsylvania, who declared of the bombing: “We didn’t do it, but we dug it.” Prosecutors had to decide whether to bring Bacon to trial anyway. But by the time the matter came up, the Supreme Court had issued a decision that effectively would have forced the government to disclose details of its surveillance. The Watergate burglars had just been caught, and the last thing the administration needed was another bugging scandal. Nixon himself ordered the Bacon case dropped. She and the other activists went free. Bacon has continued to say she had nothing to do with the bombing.


The FBI, on Oct. 14, 1970, added to its 10 Most Wanted list of fugitives Bernardine Rae Dohrn, a self-proclaimed Communist revolutionary who advocates widespread terrorist bombings. The FBI described Dohrn, 28, as a reputed underground leader of the "Violence-Oriented Weatherman Faction of Students for a Democratic Society." | Getty Images

The Weather Underground continued to stage nonlethal bombings in the 1970s, notably a blast inside a Pentagon bathroom and at the State Department. (They called ahead on those, too.) When the Vietnam War finally ended, the group lost its center of gravity. By 1980, Weather had effectively disbanded. Dohrn, along with her husband and fellow member, Bill Ayers, came out of hiding. They didn’t go to prison. The government had dropped most charges against them for the same reason they couldn’t prosecute Leslie Bacon, and also because agents on a desperate hunt for clues had been caught conducting illegal break-ins at homes of the fugitives’ friends and relatives. The FBI’s overreach had backfired, but the era of left-wing extremism imploded on its own.

Kathy Boudin was one of the few who remained underground. In 1981, she helped a group called the Black Liberation Army rob an armored Brink’s truck outside New York City. Two police officers and a guard were killed, the militants were captured. Boudin and her romantic partner, David Gilbert, went to prison. She left their 14-month-old son to be raised by her closest friends, Dohrn and Ayers, who became academics in Chicago.

A grand jury subpoenaed Dohrn in the Brink’s case. When she refused to give a handwriting sample, she was jailed for eight months. Her friend Boudin spent 22 years in prison, winning parole in 2003, and now serves as co-director of the Center for Justice at Columbia University.

Neither has disclosed anything specific about Weather’s activities, but Dohrn has spoken in general about those days, with some regret if not quite an apology. “Now, nobody in today’s world can defend bombings,” she said in a November 2008 interview with Amy Goodman of “Democracy Now.” “How could you do that after 9/11, after, you know, Oklahoma City? It’s a new context, in a different context … the context of the time has to be understood.”

A letter, postmarked Elizabeth, N.J., received on March 2, 1971, by the Associated Press in Washington, signed by Weather Underground, which claims responsibility for the March 1 bombing of the U.S. Capitol building. | AP Photo

In the same interview her husband said: “I think that if we’ve learned one thing from those perilous years, it’s that dogma, certainty, self-righteousness, sectarianism of all kinds is dangerous and self-defeating.”

As a slogan of the 1960s went, what goes around comes around. That 14-month-old son who Dohrn and Ayers raised for Boudin? He became a Rhodes scholar, a lawyer and a public defender. In 2019, he was elected district attorney of San Francisco, a job once held by Vice President Kamala Harris. And on Jan. 6, as the pro-Trump mob attacked, Chesa Boudin sent out a tweet: “Hoping everyone who works in the Capitol is safe from this despicable effort to take down our democracy.”

Fifty years on, it seems remarkable how fast the 1971 attack faded from collective memory, even as it exercised a profound effect on the end of an era of political activism that would be unrivaled until the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020. The bombing supercharged Nixon’s paranoia, leading the president and his aides to ramp up their crackdown on the New Left. They ordered the biggest, and most unconstitutional, mass arrests in U.S. history during the Mayday protests, rounding up more than 12,000 people. And then weeks later, the White House launched illegal measures to discredit Daniel Ellsberg, leaker of the Pentagon Papers. On Labor Day weekend, Krogh dispatched operatives to break into the office of Ellsberg’s former psychiatrist in Beverly Hills, searching for compromising material. Nixon’s men were field-testing the tactics they’d soon be caught using against their political opponents in the 1972 election. Thus, you can draw a line, if a dotted one, from the bombing to the demise of Richard Nixon in 1974. Donald Trump, meanwhile, still awaits the consequences of the Jan. 6 attack.

READ THE REST HERE
When the Left Attacked the Capitol - POLITICO

 

Clean break: the risk of catching Covid from surfaces overblown, experts say

Prioritising eye protection and face masks will prevent the spread of coronavirus more than disinfecting surfaces, research shows

A cleaner at the Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne. Surface transmission is not as significant a factor in Covid-19 spread as once feared, experts say. Photograph: Darrian Traynor/Getty Images

Melissa Davey

@MelissaLDavey

Sat 27 Feb 2021 

When cases of Covid-19 first began emerging in Australia, some people reported disinfecting their groceries before bringing them into their homes, and there were also concerns that the virus could be living on the surfaces of packages in the mail. During Victoria’s extended lockdown, teams of workers could be seen walking city streets disinfecting traffic light buttons, benches and even fences.

An epidemiologist with La Trobe University, Associate Prof Hassan Vally, said just over one year later it has become clear surface transmission is not as significant a factor in Covid-19 spread as once feared. While surface transmission is not impossible, Vally said its role in spread needs perspective.

“I want to be clear that nothing should change in terms of washing our hands and personal hygiene,” Vally said. “We can, however, be less anxious about washing every surface 20 times a day, and just concentrate on good hand hygiene and social distancing, and staying home when sick, which should be more than enough to stop us from spreading the virus.”

Australia Covid vaccine tracker: how is the rollout progressing and when will you get the jab?

Read more

Close contact aerosol spread is the driving factor in Covid-19 transmission, primarily when an infected person is in close contact with another person and transmit small liquid particles [droplets and aerosols] containing the virus, especially when they cough and sneeze. These aerosols then get into the nose, mouth and eyes of people nearby.

In a piece for the Conversation, Vally said: “This isn’t to say surface transmission isn’t possible and that it doesn’t pose a risk in certain situations, or that we should disregard it completely. But, we should acknowledge the threat surface transmission poses is relatively small.”

Emanuel Goldman, a professor of microbiology at Rutgers University in the US, wrote in medical journal the Lancet that studies warning of surface transmission had been conducted in the lab, and “have little resemblance to real-life scenarios”.

“In my opinion, the chance of transmission through inanimate surfaces is very small, and only in instances where an infected person coughs or sneezes on the surface, and someone else touches that surface soon after the cough or sneeze (within 1–2 hours),” Goldman said.

“I do not disagree with erring on the side of caution, but this can go to extremes not justified by the data.” Periodically disinfecting surfaces and use of gloves may be reasonable precautions in settings like hospitals, he said, but is probably overkill for less risky environments.

Fuelling the concern about surface spread were seemingly alarming but overblown studies, including one from the Australian government agency CSIRO that found a droplet of fluid containing the virus at concentrations similar to levels observed in infected patients could survive on surfaces such as cash and glass for up to 28 days.

What many of the news reports about the study failed to mention was that it was carried out in the dark to remove the effect of ultraviolet light which helps to kill viruses. Humidity and temperatures in the real world vary constantly, which is different to carefully controlled temperatures in a laboratory. Mail, for example, will go through different humidities and temperatures throughout the system and will also be exposed to light, making survival of the virus in the post extremely unlikely.

The science wasn’t wrong, Vally said, but the interpretation and explanation of the results was.

But isn’t too many hygiene measures better to be absolutely safe?

Pfizer Covid vaccine 94% effective in peer-reviewed, real-world mass study

Read more

Vally said the issue was compliance fatigue.

“There’s been a lot of psychological research done that says that we only have a certain amount of willpower and a certain amount of detail that we can focus our attention on,” Vally said. “That’s why Apple founder Steve Jobs wore the same clothes every day, based on the idea you can only make so many decisions each day, and exercise certain amount of willpower.

“To me as we learn more about the virus, we should make sure we are not being worried about things we shouldn’t be worried about, we don’t want to focus our attention on things disproportionate to the threat that they pose. That way, we will have more energy to focus on the things that are important, and that helps us to save money and time as well.”

Peter Collignon, an infectious diseases physician and professor with the Australian National University, agreed all the available evidence says it’s people in close proximity with each other talking, coughing, singing and breathing heavily that drives virus spread.

“They’re breathing them in and it’s getting into their nose and eyes and that is the major risk factor,” he said. It’s why eye protection, particularly in quarantine hotels and hospitals, should be prioritised as much as masks and social distancing, he said.

Collignon cites a large study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association that found 19% of healthcare workers became infected, despite wearing three-layered surgical masks, gloves and shoe covers and using alcohol rub. After the introduction of face shields, no worker was infected.

“I think we’ve underappreciated how important the eyes are and overemphasised surfaces,” Collignon said.

A SCAB IS A SCAB

Molson posted job ads for temporary workers almost three weeks before lockout at Toronto brewery

A LOCK OUT IS NOT A STRIKE, ITS UNION BUSTING

By Josh Rubin

Business Reporter
Tue., Feb. 23, 2021

Almost three weeks before locking out 300 employees at its Toronto plant, Molson posted help wanted ads looking for temporary brewing, packaging and warehouse workers.

The ads, posted on a number of websites, including LinkedIn and Indeed, are a sign the company is playing hardball in its dispute with the Canadian Union of Brewery and General Workers Local 325, according to labour advocate Deena Ladd.

“They’re showing they’re playing hard ball. It’s not a good look for them,” said Ladd, executive director of the Workers Action Centre.

A posting for “brewing operator” said the successful candidate would have the opportunity to “work within a World Class Manufacturing environment that actively supports and benefits their community.” The temporary jobs would pay $16.94 per hour, according to the postings. A permanent brewing worker at the top of the wage scale earns $35.35 an hour.

A company spokesperson said the jobs were a routine annual posting for summer help, and not related to contract negotiations.

The postings were put up just around the time a no-board report declaring in impasse in negotiations was requested by the company. A no-board was declared Feb. 4. The brewing, packaging and warehouse jobs were listed by LinkedIn three weeks ago.

Saturday, Molson locked out 300 workers at one of its biggest plants in the country, just hours after workers overwhelmingly rejected the company’s final offer. The workers have been without a contract since their old collective bargaining agreement expired Dec. 31.

Labour lawyer Laurie Kent, who represents the union, said Local 325 was “surprised and disappointed” by the lockout, because the two sides had been making progress at the bargaining table.

“It is especially disappointing that Molson would do this during a pandemic when their workers have been declared essential,” said Kent, adding that Local 325 is optimistic that the company won’t actually use replacement workers during the lockout.

“The union would be deeply disappointed if the company chose to hire replacement workers, but is hopeful that it won’t come to that,” said Kent, a partner at Koskie Minsky.

Molson didn’t bring in replacement workers during a 2017 strike at the plant that lasted more than a month.

In 2007, the company took a harder line with workers at its Edmonton brewery, closing it permanently during an ongoing strike, throwing 136 people out of work.

Ladd said if the company brings in replacement workers this time, it would extend the labour dispute rather than bringing it to a quick conclusion.

“The whole point of something as drastic as a strike or a lockout is to move negotiations along. Hiring replacement workers takes the pressure off for getting something done,” said Ladd.



The company presented its final offer on Feb. 10. Employees voted on it Thursday and Friday

The three-year offer included raises in each of the three years for two different tiers of employees, and a $1,000 ratification bonus.

The company’s offer also included transferring all but the most senior employees from a defined-benefit pension plan to a newer defined-contribution plan.  THIS IS A TERRIBLE CHANGE, 

A DBP IS WAY BETTER

The union had asked the company to gradually eliminate the two-tier wage system, which had been in place at the plant since 2010. It caps new hires at 84 per cent of the previous wage scale. Employees hired before that point can hit the top of the scale.

A company proposal to bring in a “continental” schedule could have also meant 12-hour shifts with no overtime pay, said Kent.

The Toronto brewery, on Carlingview Dr. near Pearson airport, is one of Molson’s biggest in the country, and produces dozens of brands. Several industry sources said the plant produces three million hectolitres of beer per year. That’s 300 million litres, or roughly equivalent to 880 million bottles of beer.

Josh Rubin is a Toronto-based business reporter. Follow him on Twitter: @starbeer

Biden Denounces Union-Busting Tactics Ahead of Amazon Union Voice in Alabama

Biden at his campaign kick off in Pittsburgh in 2019 (UPI)

BY: MIKE ELK FEBRUARY 28, 2021


Tonite, President Joe Biden released a video voicing his support for unionization efforts including those at Amazon in Alabama, where 6,000 workers are voting this month on whether to unionize.

“Today and over the next few days and weeks, workers in Alabama and all across America are voting on whether to organize a union in their workplace,” Biden said on a video posted to twitter. “This is vitally important — a vitally important choice, as America grapples with the deadly pandemic, the economic crisis and the reckoning on race — what it reveals is the deep disparities that still exist in our country.”

Biden asserted in his comments that the federal government had a role in helping to promote unionization in the US.

“You should all remember that the National Labor Relations Act didn’t just say that unions are allowed to exist, it said that we should encourage unions,” said Biden.

Biden also took a step to denounce some of the union busting tactics that companies including Amazon regularly use to bust unions.

“There should be no intimidation, no coercion, no threats, no anti-union propaganda. No supervisor should confront employees about their union preferences,” said Biden.

Labor historians hailed the speech as a landmark turning point in how presidents help unions.

“Politicians always give great speeches at union conventions and avoid union organizing campaigns because of the possibility of failure. But Biden broke this norm,” tweeted University of California Santa Barbara labor historian Nelson Lictenstein.

RWDSU, which is seeking to unionize workers at Amazon in Alabama, welcomed the statement.

“Thank you, President Biden, for sending clear message support for the BAmazon Union workers seeking to bring the first union to an Amazon warehouse with RWDSU,” said RWDSU president Stuart Applbaum in a statement. “As President Biden points out, the best way for working people to protect themselves and their families is by organizing into unions”.

Unions Petition Biden to Get Involved in Amazon Union Drive - Molson Use Scabs to Bust Union - El Paso Nursing Assistants Strike – Payday Report

Vaccine tourism is both unethical and bad for business, experts say

Executives who engage in so-called "vaccine tourism" show both an ethical disregard for those less fortunate and a surprising lack of business acumen, experts argue.

© Provided by The Canadian Press
Their comments came after the head of Canada Pension Plan Investment Board, Mark Machin, stepped down after admitting to travelling to Dubai to receive a COVID-19 vaccine.

"The reputational damage — the lasting scar of you being caught, outed and tarred and feathered in the public square over your decision to engage in vaccine tourism — will linger," said Wojtek Dabrowski, managing partner of Provident Communications.

He said it will likely be some time until Machin, once a highly respected money manager, lands a new gig, as most companies will be loath to have their names associated with his.

"You have to think about what kind of organization would take on a leader with this in their background," Dabrowski said.

Decisions to travel abroad for COVID-19 vaccines also raise questions about the culture a person expects to cultivate in their company, he added.

"As the CEO, the buck stops with you every time," Dabrowski said. "Whether that's on business performance, whether that's on culture, or whether that's on modelling the behaviour that you want to see elsewhere in the organization."

In this case, he said, the Canada Pension Plan itself is likely to come out unscathed, in part because Machin left his post so quickly.

But if the company is not so well-known or highly regarded to begin with, and doesn't act swiftly to rectify the situation, the executive's actions could have broader implications, he said.

Some regions have also clamped down on vaccine tourism, not wanting to be associated with the practice.

In January, the Florida government changed its vaccination rules to prevent non-residents from flying in, getting jabbed and flying back out. The state now requires would-be vaccine recipients to provide proof of at least part-time residency.

And while Dabrowski noted that executivrs may find it desirable — though unadvisable — to combine vaccination with a vacation, that's not always how things play out.

In late January, the head of the Great Canadian Gaming Corp. and his wife were ticketed after allegedly flying to a remote Yukon community to get vaccinated.

Dabrowski said the consequences of travelling to hop the vaccine line are perhaps even greater now, in a time when many people believe corporations should consider more than just profits.

"This whole idea that a corporation has this broader social imperative that's not just focused around making money, but rather, improving and bettering and serving the communities in which these companies operate, is emerging as a very pressing imperative for a lot of organizations," he said.

And there's little question about whether vaccine tourism betters the community, he added.

Bioethicist Kerry Bowman said he was shocked to learn that a prominent figure would travel abroad to get a COVID-19 vaccine, especially after the furor that erupted in late December and early January over jet-setting politicians defying public health advice to avoid international travel.

"You're really jumping the vaccine queue," he said. "We've got elderly people in this country, and particularly the province of Ontario, that have still not even received a preliminary dose."

Vaccine tourism also erodes trust in a health-care system that should ideally, treat everybody equally, Bowman said.

"It feeds into what a lot of people already know: That people with privileges and connections are going to find a way through the system."

The phenomenon differs, Bowman said, from other forms of medical tourism in which people cross the border to pay for quicker access to treatment.

"If you're going abroad for surgery, the secondary effect on other people from a point of view of justice is very different," he said, noting that the pandemic makes everything more complicated.

"If a person is coming back from overseas, even if they've been vaccinated, the vaccine is really not coming up to strength for a few weeks," he said. "So you've also got a potential health risk that's being introduced."

Bowman said the costs of vaccine tourism far outweigh any benefits.

"Critics will say vaccine tourism is just taking pressure off the system, and it's no big deal," Bowman said. "But, you know, fairness is very, very important."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Feb. 28, 2021.

Nicole Thompson, The Canadian Press

Canada's spy agency wants more power. 

How would that work? BADLY
Catharine Tunney POSTMEDIA

© Andrew Burton/Reuters Section 16 of the CSIS Act limits the spy agency's ability to gather foreign intelligence if the data and messages are hosted in other countries.

The agency he runs fell afoul of the Federal Court — and now the country's chief spy is intensifying his campaign for new powers and sounding the alarm about the Canadian Security Intelligence Service's ability to keep tabs on hostile foreign states.

But civil liberties advocates are urging Parliament to be skeptical if it agrees to crack open the legislation that governs CSIS.

In a rare public speech earlier this month, CSIS director David Vigneault took aim at the spy agency's legislation.


"We need to ensure that CSIS authorities continue to evolve so that they are able to address the challenges of the significantly more complex environment around us," he said.

"Our act sets technological limitations on intelligence collection that were not foreseen by the drafters of the legislation in 1984 and unduly limit our investigations in a modern era."

His speech, delivered virtually to the Centre for International Governance Innovation, said that hostile foreign governments — notably China and Russia — are "aggressively" targeting Canada to obtain political and economic advantages.

Leah West, a former federal lawyer who is now a lecturer on national security issues at Carleton University, said the service has been constrained for years by two words in its enabling law: "within Canada."

CSIS isn't able to collect foreign intelligence in the way the CIA or MI6 does. Section 16 of the CSIS Act allows the service to collect foreign intelligence relating to the capabilities, intentions or activities of any foreign state — as long as the information itself is located within Canada.

"There's a huge gap in Canada's foreign intelligence collection abilities," West said.

"In this day and age, having a good understanding of the intents and abilities and priorities of foreign governments is really important. We are living in a global pandemic. This information is extremely important these days."

The limitations placed on CSIS's sphere of operations by the law make it unclear whether, for example, the intelligence agency could access a target's information if the data in question were sent via an email hosted on a server outside of Canada

© Sean Kilpatrick/The Canadian Press In a rare public speech earlier this month, CSIS Director David Vigneault took aim at the spy agency's legislation.

Meanwhile, the Communications Security Establishment — Canada's foreign signals agency — is prohibited from collecting intelligence on people within Canada.

"There's a gap for people in Canada who store their data outside of Canada," said West. "And that's a gap that, if I was a foreign state entity, I'd be looking to take advantage of."
Federal Court has pushed back at CSIS

In recent years, the Federal Court has ruled against CSIS over its approach to foreign intelligence.

Just this month, a judge denied the service's request to collect foreign information, ruling that a proposed technique would stray beyond the spy service's legal mandate.

The court has noted in the past that Parliament imposed the "within Canada" requirement because collecting intelligence in other countries could harm Canada's international relations — an interpretation CSIS rejects.

"The court's interpretation of the 'within Canada' limitation in the context of new technology significantly impacts the ability [of] CSIS to provide advice to the minister of foreign affairs or national defence," CSIS spokesperson John Townsend told CBC News this week.

The government of Canada has filed an appeal of that recent Federal Court decision posing specific questions pertaining to the interpretation of CSIS's authority to collect foreign intelligence.

Stephanie Carvin, a professor of international affairs at Carleton University and a former national security analyst, called Vigneault's speech a plea for attention from Parliament.

"What the director is effectively saying is, 'Look, we've stressed our mandate as far as it goes, but it's no longer adequate to address some of these threats,'" she said.

"I think there's this real misconception that intelligence services want to operate in the dark and in the shadows and things like this, and to a certain extent they do. But they also really like legal certainty."

But lawyer Lex Gill, an affiliate with the Citizen Lab at the Munk School of Global Affairs and Public Policy, said lawmakers should be reluctant to entertain CSIS's requests for greater authority in light of the court's concerns.

"The greater a state actor's ability to infringe [on] our privacy rights and our other constitutional rights, the more robust the mechanisms for prior judicial authorization, oversight and review must be," she wrote in an email to CBC News.

"It's fair to say that intelligence agencies in Canada have had a track record of asking for more of the former without due regard for the latter."
CSIS's request for 'modern tools' questioned

Vigneault also said the act needs to be updated so that the service can "use modern tools and assess data and information" — in part to keep up with the flood of information.

"When the CSIS Act was drafted in 1984, telephone books and alligator clips on phone lines were among the tools used to identify threat actors and collect information. Information was stored in silos," said Townsend.

"The changes contemplated are not about addressing the issue of encryption. Rather, it is about ensuring CSIS analysts have the tools and authorities to help them make sense of exponentially growing data, in strict accordance with Canadians' expectations of privacy."

That worries Brenda McPhail, privacy director at the Canadian Civil Liberties Association.

"To me, that sounds like they're looking to leverage artificial intelligence applications and they want to be able to potentially combine large data sets to train and draw inferences from combining different sets of data," she said.

That kind of data collection and surveillance can be particularly alarming for people of colour, said McPhail.

"It comes from a place of incredible privilege to say, 'I have nothing to hide, so I have nothing to fear.' So a middle aged white woman like me might be able to say that and think she means it," she said. "But a young Black man who's ever been stopped simply for the crime of driving Black would be deeply and intimately aware that it doesn't matter if you're blameless.

"People are unjustly and disproportionately targeted and as people in Canada we should care about that. "
Who gets to hear CSIS's secrets?

CSIS also has signalled it wants Parliament to take another look at the part of the act that says who it can provide classified briefings to.

Section 19 of the act says the agency can advise "the government of Canada".

Townsend said the agency can still give "sanitized threat overviews" and unclassified briefings to external stakeholders, but stressed that threats to Canada's COVID-19 vaccine rollout have shown that private sector firms play a role in national security.

Carvin said that, for years, espionage was focused on governments targeting other governments' secrets and military plans.

"That has changed. We are now looking at governments that are targeting NGOs, activist groups in Canada, for clandestine foreign influence purposes, that they're targeting cities and provinces because they control critical infrastructure in Canada and businesses who have lots of important data that is now strategic," she said.

"The nature of the threat is such that maybe [CSIS] needs to be talking to groups that are being targeted, say by China."

The B.C. Civil Liberties Association has tried to take CSIS to task for sharing information on protesters with the National Energy Board (NEB) and petroleum industry companies — something the advocacy group sees as a violation of section 19 of the CSIS Act.

The spy agency's watchdog dismissed BCCLA's complaint and the association is now taking its case to the Federal Court.
Government 'will always work with security agencies'

Updating the CSIS Act was not mentioned in Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's mandate letter to Public Safety Minister Bill Blair. The minister's spokesperson, Mary-Liz Power, said the government is opening to working with CSIS but wouldn't say if the Liberal government would undertake a review of the law any time soon.

"Canadians expect their government's agencies to keep pace with evolving threats and global trends, and we agree. The National Security framework in Canada is always evolving to meet the moment. It is critical that this work be done in accordance with the rule of law, and never at the expense of Canadians' Charter rights," she said.

"We will always work with security agencies and expert partners across government to ensure our agencies have the tools they need to keep us all safe."

The Liberal government overhauled parts of the national security law in 2019, including the rules governing CSIS's use of data sets.

NDP public safety critic Jack Harris said any discussion of changing the law would have to proceed with caution.

"Any request for new powers would need to be clearly substantiated and considered along with assurances that any such powers would be used appropriately," he said in a media statement.

"In light of CSIS's history and judicial comments on their relationship with the court, we need to be vigilant."

McPhail said she wants to see nuanced conversations about CSIS's powers take place both in Parliament and in public — but the agency needs to be more open about what it wants.

"If there are specific authorities that are needed in order to create specific tools that will have genuine benefit to national security, then we need more than a vague, 'We need more modern authorities,'" she said.

"We need a statement that says, 'We want to use artificial intelligence applications for the following purposes.' Not operational details, just [a] broad policy level statement.

"There's everything to be gained and nothing to be lost from an open public conversation ..."

Carvin said studying and opening the legislation would allow politicians and the public to engage with difficult questions about privacy, national security and foreign intelligence.

"In the pandemic, intelligence has become extremely important on so many levels," she said. "So I think there is the potential for Parliament to actually do something."

Inuit midwives say they left after experiencing years of mistreatment

IQALUIT, Nunavut — Cas Augaarjuk Connelly and Rachel Qiliqti Kaludjak never wanted to stop working at a Nunavut birthing centre, but they say years of mistreatment, racism and a lack of support from their government left them no choice

© Provided by The Canadian Press

Both are nationally certified midwives, the first Inuit in Canada to hold such credentials, and for the last six years were the only ones to offer labour support full time in Rankin Inlet.

"It was our dream and our passion. I really had visions of retiring from the birthing centre when I’m old and grey," Kaludjak said.

In January 2020, Connelly resigned and Kaludjak left in August. Connelly had worked at the centre since 2008; Kaludjak since 2003.

The Nunavut government then shuttered birthing services in Rankin Inlet, forcing expectant mothers there and in surrounding hamlets to leave home to give birth.

"It was a very emotional decision. We felt like we were failing ourselves and failing our fellow Inuit women. That made me very, very sad," Kaludjak said. "And I felt very guilty about that. And I still do. The system doesn’t allow for us to succeed.

"The women deserve an explanation. A real concrete one."

When Connelly and Kaludjak started at the birthing centre, which opened in 1993, there were two other full-time midwives. But for the last six years, they were the only two. The remaining positions were filled by a revolving door of southern midwives who would fly up for a few weeks.

Connelly and Kaludjak were essentially running the centre on their own.

"We were constantly orienting new staff. And often we had no casuals. We’d have blocks of time where we didn’t have enough staff. We’d be on call for weeks and weeks at a time," Connelly said.

Nunavut's health-care system relies heavily on southern providers. And the most recent figures from Statistics Canada show that the territory has the highest birthrate in Canada at 22.6 live births per 1,000 people — more than double the national average of 10.1. Some 840 babies were born to Nunavut mothers in 2019.

Connelly and Kaludjak provided Nunavut Inuit with something rare: health care at home in their first language.

"Women were able to speak their own language. It was so rewarding," Kaludjak said.

"We’re related to half the community, so you’re taking care of your family as well," Connelly added.

At times, she said, they were burned out, worried for their patients and felt like they had all of the community's maternity care on their shoulders.

Yet when Department of Health staff needed information or had questions about the birthing centre, they turned to the southern, non-Inuit staff, the women said.

"In their eyes, there were the Aboriginal midwives and then the midwives. We'd do births together and we'd be supervised by people who don’t even do births. We were always made to feel less," Connelly said.

"We were questioned on things like overtime and mirroring our southern colleagues, who were there at the exact same time doing a birth together. Our southern colleagues were never questioned," Kaludjak said.

One Nunavut government employee, who wished to remain anonymous, said the two women were constantly brushed aside by management.

"You would have somebody from the south come up, who’s literally been there a week, and the manager wanted to meet with that person ... instead of asking Inuit that have been there for a decade," she said.

Kaludjak was acting manager at the birthing centre for three years. She said when the position was posted, she interviewed for the job and was rejected.

She said she was told she would need to train her replacement, but no one was hired.

Joan Margaret Laine, a midwife who worked with the two women, said the government failed them.

"There were so many instances of racism and aggression. It was really disheartening to work there."

She said she was in a group of midwives who offered to work full time in Rankin Inlet to give Connelly and Kaludjak some relief. But jobs were never posted.

The Department of Health did not respond to requests for comment about the jobs or Connelly and Kaludjak.

Health Minister Lorne Kusugak, who was moved into the role after Connelly and Kaludjak left, said he's working with his department to review the birthing centre's operations.

"Since Day 1 of my first meeting with senior staff, that was one of the top priorities that we brought forward, to ensure the centre runs again and we don’t run into the same issues that may have been highlighted by previous staff."

Kusuagak said he is "very aware" of the situation at the centre.

"We have to make sure that the work environment is one that is equal to everybody that is there. The goal here is to have women give birth in a very safe and peaceful environment."

Martha Aitkin, the birthing centre's director from 2006 to 2009, also worked as a locum midwife in Rankin Inlet in 2017. She said Connelly and Kaludjak experienced "a long list of microaggressions" by the government.

“It can only be described as anti-Inuit racism. The view from the southern people above them in the government hierarchy was that they weren’t good enough, that they weren’t as qualified," said Aitkin, who is from Ontario.

Connelly, Kaludjak and other midwives said they brought their issues to the government over the years, but nothing was done. They said that's partially because there is a high turnover in departmental staff.

"I don’t think there’s anyone in one position long enough to make change," Connelly said.

"The whole dream that the government has of homegrown professionals, I don’t know how that’s ever going to be if they don’t support it," Kaludjak said.

The territory's Arctic College ran a midwifery program from 2006 to 2014, but it never continued.

Fiona Buchan-Corey, director of the college's Kitikmeot campus, said federal government funding was not renewed.

Kerstin Gafvels helped develop the program and worked with Connelly and Kaludjakt. She said she was disappointed when she heard the program was no longer running and that Connelly and Kaludjak had left the birthing centre.

"No one coming in temporarily from the south would ever understand or have the knowledge that they carry by being part of the community, of actually living there."

Connelly and Kaludjak still live in Rankin Inlet with their families.

"The government leaves people hanging with no explanation and too many empty promises and I don’t want to be a part of that," Connelly said.

"This is not just a government-bashing discussion. It’s mainly for the women to have answers and for the government to step up and make the necessary changes."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Feb. 28, 2021.

___

This story was produced with the financial assistance of the Facebook and Canadian Press News Fellowship

Emma Tranter, The Canadian Press

Birch Narrows Dene Nation tells Toronto company to leave its territory

Saskatchewan Indigenous leadership are calling on Toronto-based uranium mining company Baselode Energy Corp. to stop surveys on Birch Narrows Dene Nation traditional territory in the far north unless consent is given.

A permit was issued last month by the province to Baselode for access to land near Turnor Lake, on the edge of the Athabasca Basin and traditional territory of the Birch Narrows Dene Nation, while consultations with the community were still ongoing.

The company set up camp and began conducting surveys on Birch Narrows resident Leonard Sylvestre’s trapline in an area traditionally used for such activities by the community.

Birch Narrows Dene Elder advisor and trapper Ron Desjardin said it felt like an invasion.

“I don't like what they did. They were very disrespectful, unfortunately. If they had any sense or any knowledge of what goes on in our country regarding Indigenous issues they would have stepped back, they would have not chosen to do this, but they went ahead anyway.”

Having presented Baselode with a cease and desist order, Birch Narrows officials set up a blockade when they found that the company was not respecting promises to stop surveys, but took it down and are now patrolling the area regularly.

“They threatened us if we set up a blockade ‘an illegal action’ and never mind the fact that they were on somebody's strapline,” Desjardin said.

“They threatened us with legal action and they were trying to make it look like ‘oh our people, they're not safe.’ They even went to the RCMP saying ‘we want to ensure that our people are going to be safe.’”

That mentality, Desjardin said, feels to him like the company is treating them like they’re “savages.”

“That's what really ticks me off,” he said. “We're still viewed that way.”

Birch Narrows is currently dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic and Baselode crews went through the reserve, where they had left some equipment on their way to the survey site, Desjardin said.

Baselode Energy Corp. President and CEO James Sykes said in a written response that his company believes a “near-term solution is achievable” and will look to “continue with its exploration activities in due course.”

“Upon learning of the Community’s objections the Company has paused on-site work to continue further consultation with the local communities,” Sykes said.

“Since applying for permits in October 2020, Baselode has proactively engaged in a positive and constructive dialogue consistent with the duty to consult and accommodate process. We share the common goal of a desire to proceed with mutually beneficial objectives, environmental considerations, and economic development opportunities.”

Sykes said there have been mischaracterizations of the circumstances that the company deems to be inaccurate.

“We have no further comment at this time as we choose to continue our ongoing positive dialogue directly with the community,” Sykes said.

Baselode did send further comments through a law firm in Regina.

The letter accused Desjardin of saving his allegations for “long after” they left the site. They alleged that he “has a history on this file of making inaccurate and inflammatory statements as part of his crusade and the illegal blockade.”

The response came after the Herald asked specific questions about an interaction between a contractor and people staffing the checkpoint. The Herald is continuing to look into the interaction.

The letter said Baselode is a “highly respected publicly traded exploration company” that has “built a reputation for going above and beyond in its interactions with indigenous people.”

Ministry of Environment spokesperson Chris Hodges confirmed that Saskatchewan Minister of Environment Warren Kaeding met with the Birch Narrows Dene Nation to discuss the situation.

“Minister Kaeding had an opportunity to discuss the matter further with Chief Jonathan Sylvestre of Birch Narrows Dene Nation and the Federation of Sovereign Indigenous Nations. The Minister encourages that all parties involved continue to communicate and work together in a respectful and safe manner,” Hodges said.

The ministry said it recognizes the lands in question have been used traditionally by the community but that “deliberately blocking public Crown lands is illegal” and can be a public safety issue.

In addition to having two separate meetings with the community on Jan. 20 and on Feb. 9, the province said Baselode engaged by way of a radio broadcast describing the proposed mineral exploration and gave an opportunity to pose questions.

The ministry confirmed that Baselode made a presentation available to the public and leadership through the distribution of flash drives and a printed report. Previous attempts to meet were postponed due to COVID-19 outbreaks and a funeral.

The ministry said it wants both parties to work together to “build a positive and mutually beneficial relationship so that opportunities can be discussed and evaluated.”

‘Bad business’ called out by leadership

Desjardin said the core issue is that the Baselode was under the impression from the province that consultation with Indigenous communities is optional and that permits issued by Saskatchewan are sufficient to begin operations.

He said the problem hinges on a lack of clarity around the duty to consult — a responsibility that ultimately lies with the Crown as opposed to industry.

“When Canada came up with this whole duty to consult they told the territories and provinces to start doing business a different way. They were given this mandate to accommodate Indigenous rights and there were some clear guidelines, Desjardin said.

“The Saskatchewan government turned this around and they've given this responsibility to industry. Industry now is in a conflict of interest because they want those resources. There was a failure to meaningfully address our concerns and too much reliance on industry to address the concerns.”

He said provinces develop their own consultation protocols in line with what Canada expects and “Saskatchewan is way behind.”

“Consultation and accommodation is not a means to an end nor an end in itself. There needs to be an opportunity to advance reconciliation for the purpose of improving relationships because that's what's lacking right now.”

Birch Narrows Dene Nation Chief Jonathan Sylvestre said that resource developers need to understand that provincial permits don’t override the rights of First Nations or the consultation process and the community expects to be involved prior to any resource development or extraction on their traditional lands.

“First Nations must be meaningfully and properly engaged on issues that have the potential to adversely impact our rights. It’s been especially difficult to meet deadlines during COVID- 19, while our efforts are keeping our communities safe — not on rubber stamping resource development activities in our territories,” Sylvestre said.

The Federation of Sovereign Indigenous Nations (FSIN) Chief Bobby Cameron said Saskatchewan has no authority to authorize permits without engaging with First Nations and without providing the opportunity to give input.

“Stay off our lands unless given consent by the First Nation.”

FSIN Vice Chief Heather Bear said Indigenous connections to the land, water, animals and environment are paramount.

“These kinds of bad business practices won’t be tolerated anymore,” Bear said.

“Resource exploration and extraction within our territories presents our treaty hunters and gatherers with real problems, especially when it impacts their ability to exercise their Inherent and Treaty rights to hunt, fish, trap and gather.”

The province said the ministry approved phase 1 of Baselode’s project on Jan. 27 and issued a permit for preliminary exploration, authorizing a survey with “very low impact” on the environment.

Surveyors can access the area on snowmobile or in a snow-cat and collect ground gravity readings on foot to decide where to propose drilling. That information would then be given to the community.

The next phase of exploration, for which a permit has not been issued, would involve core sampling after undergoing the consultation and community engagement process.

The province said the Turnor Lake community and Baselode Energy are discussing plans for a comprehensive traditional land study in the area that it says falls outside the duty to consult process which focuses on how a community currently uses the area.

According to the province, engagement with Indigenous communities by industry is separate from duty to consult obligations held by the province in this context and those discussions don’t influence the permitting process or timeframes.

Meadow Lake Tribal Council Tribal Chief Richard Ben said the province needs to provide already underfunded First Nations with the financial resources to be able to participate at the table “in a meaningful way.”

“Otherwise, many First Nations will be left out of the process. We can’t undertake studies at our own expense in order to be consulted on resource development within our territory,” Ben said.

The Government of Saskatchewan First Nation and Métis Consultation Policy Framework, drafted in 2010, states that Saskatchewan “does not accept assertions by First Nations or Métis that Aboriginal title continues to exist with respect to either lands or resources in Saskatchewan.”

Desjardin says that’s insulting. He said while lip service is paid to engaging with First Nations, those words don’t ring true when they’re contradicted in policy.

“The duty to consult document is outdated. How can a document support us on one hand and then tell us that on the other hand ‘you've got nothing here.’ It’s a weak document, it’s a contradictory document and it’s a patronizing document. It's not serving its purpose, not doing what it's supposed to do,” Desjardin said.

‘Cultural survival’ depends on wildlife habitat

Desjardin said his community has long relied on an abundance of caribou and moose, who feed in muskeg areas such as the proposed exploration site near Harding Bay.

Canada’s Species at Risk Act considers woodland caribou as a threatened species. Saskatchewan has not yet finished its habitat assessment for the Boreal Shield and Desjardin wants that data to be available before development happens in the area.

“The provinces and territories agreed to come up with a solution, to come up with plans to address this. Saskatchewan is really late. Our area was supposed to be done in June of this year. And that's what I've been pleading with the ministry saying, ‘hold off, hold on, let's find out where the caribou are at.’ How can you make a meaningful decision if you're not basing it on scientific data?” Desjardin said.

“We’ve proposed setting aside that whole area as a preserve to save those caribou because they do mean a lot to us. It's our grocery store. That's what it is. We’d like everything to be put on hold. Give us at least a year so that we can do our own research and we can find out where we’re at with everything that we want and then let’s talk.”

The ministry said it initiated the duty to consult process with the Indigenous communities of Turnor Lake Oct. 27 last year for Baselode's proposal for mineral exploration on “unoccupied, public Crown land” about 50 kilometres northeast of the community.

The process was extended so the community had more time to discuss the project and voice concerns to the ministry. The province said those concerns included impact to caribou, impact to trapping, the development of a new trail to the exploration site and a heavy haul ice road for equipment.

Early concerns expressed about the new access roads were addressed by changing the program to a heli-assist, which reduces overall impact, the ministry said.

Desjardin said the government and industry need to realize that there are “deeper issues” with the unique habitat of that area.

“We are fighting for our cultural survival. That’s what we’re doing right now and that’s why we feel so strongly about this. Do we want a uranium mine in the middle of that knowing the possible consequences if anything ever happened with our watershed? Of course not. Do we really want something that’s going to lead to the demise and extinction of our caribou in that area? No, we don’t,” Desjardin said.

“This is something that you need to listen to. We’re not totally against industry. We know people need jobs. But we’d like a say. Listen to us, this is why we don’t want it there.”

‘Speaking from the heart’ to build good partnerships

Desjardin said companies that have built successful partnerships with Birch Narrows have gone through the full process of a meaningful consultation.

“They sat down with people, they listened to the pros and cons, they addressed each of those issues as well as they could. They didn't hide anything and they were transparent,” Desjardin said.

He said Baselode should follow the example set by NexGen Energy Ltd., another uranium company that operates in the Athabasca Basin.

“When they drafted a benefit agreement here with Birch Narrows they chose not to call it an impact benefit agreement, they chose to call it a mutual benefit agreement and I thought that was awesome because they didn't rush. It took time,” Desjardin said.

“They didn't come and say, ‘Okay, here's our timeline. We have until December. Please make a decision now.’ Basically, that's what Baselode did to us. We're saying ‘No, you have to fit into our timelines.’ We live here.”

Desjardin said the issue is part of long-standing unresolved Indigenous grievances in Canada.

“It's all about relationships. Canada and the province have to stop hiding behind their documents and their policies. We're speaking from the heart. We don't hide behind policies and documents because this means something to us. It might not mean much to somebody living in Saskatoon but it does to us,” Desjardin said.

“It's a dichotomous relationship because we're going down this line and we're not bridging any gaps. Everyone's on their own. No wonder we've got all these issues. We need to bridge that gap and start respecting each other.”

Citing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission calls to action Desjardin said it’s important to establish and maintain a mutually respectful relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples in Canada.

In order for that to happen there has to be awareness of the past, acknowledgement of the harm that has been inflicted, atonement for the causes and action to change behavior. “Saskatchewan is falling short on the action part,” Desjardin said.

“I like what Chief Dr. Robert Joseph (a Hereditary Chief of the Gwawaenuk First Nation in British Columbia) said. Like he said, I want you to dream and imagine what reconciliation would look like in 20, 30 and 40 years from now on,” Desjardin said.

“When we are reconciled, we will live together in harmony, be gentle with one another, we will be caring and compassionate. When we are reconciled every person living here will live with dignity, purpose and value. That's where Canada and Saskatchewan need to go.”

Michael Bramadat-Willcock, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter, The Northern Advocate