Last month, the right-wing populist government in Canada’s French-speaking province of Quebec finally scrapped its controversial forestry bill. The bill, known as Bill 97, was intended to significantly increase the amount of wood extracted from the state’s forests.
It envisioned turning over at least one-third of the state’s forests for exclusive use by private industrial logging concessionaires, with the remaining third open to logging but also allowing other activities, including recreation. The remaining third would have been for storage.
The bill faced fierce opposition from civil society and indigenous peoples. Months of organized and widespread resistance were successful.
Although the bill died, the fact that it was even proposed at all shows where the priorities of the ruling Coalition Avenir Québec (CAQ) lie. They believe that the interests of the logging lobby justify forcing votes on environmental regulations, climate change measures, and indigenous rights. Even if he publicly condemns the US president, he clearly supports Trumpist politics.
Important lessons can be learned from the fight against Bill 97 to ensure Indigenous voices are not ignored again and similar legislation is not passed.
When people come together despite their differences, they win.
When Bill 97 was introduced, the First Nations Assembly of Quebec and Labrador (AFNQL) announced its immediate rejection. He claimed that he had been consulting with the government on forest management for more than a year and making recommendations, but they were completely ignored. The bill directly violated the rights of indigenous peoples because it sought to prepare unceded lands for confiscation by the logging industry.
For the Nehirowisiu people (also known as the Atikamekwa), the arrival of Bill 97 is another blow to their long-standing fight to protect their relationship with the animals, plants and waterways of the Nitaskinan, located about 400 km (250 miles) north of Montreal. Nitaskinan means “our land”. Had this bill passed, it would have amounted to a kind of cultural genocide, the deliberate erasure of both the foundations of their cultural world and the material conditions of their existence.
Seeing the destructive potential of this bill while it was still being drafted, a group of Innu, Abenaki, and Anishinaabe land advocates joined Nehirowisiu to form the MAMO Alliance. MAMO means “together” in Nehilowisiw and Innu languages.
After the bill was introduced, the coalition erected tipis as symbols of resistance and solidarity and issued eviction notices to 11 logging companies operating without consent. They blocked roads and organized protests.
Quebec civil society also took action. Environmental groups, wildlife biologists, fish and game supply companies, industry unions and artists also voiced their opposition. University students and social justice groups in Montreal organized support for the blockade.
Days before the bill was scrapped, the AFNQL, trade unions representing 20,000 forestry workers, and environmental groups jointly released a public statement calling the bill “unacceptable” and condemning the government’s decision to ignore their criticisms.
This cross-society mobilization meant that the government could no longer rely on its usual rhetoric pitting “unreasonable and hostile natives” against the welfare of the settler society.
The threat of bulldozer environmentalism is real
Bill 97 also demonstrated the dangers of so-called bulldozer environmentalism, which claims that destruction of nature can have positive environmental outcomes.
The introduction of Bill 97 was accompanied by claims of its environmental benefits, which were meaningless. For example, CAQ Minister of Natural Resources and Forests Maite Blanchett Vezina, who resigned shortly before the bill died, argued that handing over forests for intensive logging in priority management areas would be a “better” way to sequester carbon and “vaccinate forests against the effects of climate change.”
However, environmental research contradicts the idea that logging mature, old-growth forests further increases carbon storage potential. For example, one recent study concluded that mature “forests store far more carbon per hectare than young forests,” and conserving such forests could help sequester large amounts of carbon.
Beneath Bill 97’s pretense of environmental concern was a familiar colonial mindset that embraced the idea of treating land purely as an economic resource rather than as a living ecosystem. The division of forests into zones in order to redesign them for economic purposes reflects colonialism, extractivism, and a Eurocentric world perception. This is in contrast to indigenous knowledge of the land as an interconnected whole. This means that protecting one part of the land while destroying another is inconsistent with the indigenous worldview.
In this sense, Bill 97 is no different from other devastating bills introduced recently. One example is Ontario Premier Doug Ford’s Unlock Economic Law to Protect Ontario (Bill 5), which seeks to accelerate mineral extraction projects framed as “strategically important” by watering down environmental protections and respect for constitutionally protected Indigenous rights. It would also give the government the power to create special economic zones that could cancel existing social and environmental regulations.
Prime Minister Mark Carney’s Bill C-5, which would allow the government to fast-track major projects by bypassing environmental protections, is a similar law that applies at the national level.
Such bills aim to give private industry the right to decide how public lands are used in the name of national security and President Trump’s “make, baby, build” ethos. From “sovereign” artificial intelligence data centers to liquefied natural gas pipelines and mining projects, Canada is rushing to be the first to hand over land and give extractive industries carte blanche to do whatever they want.
In the process, it has even scrapped the typical histrionics of consultation with indigenous peoples and other stakeholders, implemented gag orders, suppressed dissent, ignored legal judgments, completely ignored environmental impact assessments and parliamentary debates, and ignored previous legislation on indigenous rights.
Prepare for the zombies of Bill 97
It is too early to celebrate the end of Bill 97. The revised forest reform bill is expected to be enacted within a year. The CAQ government is likely to propose similar or even more stringent proposals in the coming months.
That’s why we need to continue our advocacy efforts and focus on taking the industry’s priority logging zones off the table. Forest management must be done in a truly collaborative way, involving an independent coalition of indigenous peoples, ecologists, trade unions and rural outfitters who live and work the land and know it best.
The government and its industry supporters should not be allowed to manage Quebec’s forests. Under no circumstances should logging be allowed in habitats identified as sensitive for endangered species such as woodland caribou.
Finally, prioritizing the ancestral rights of indigenous communities to territory must be part of what it means to care for forests.
Responsible forestry reform does not mean that trees should not be cut down for timber. A world in which wood products are replaced by concrete and plastic would be a disaster. Responsible timber management is possible while ensuring forest regeneration.
In the face of a global ecological crisis that is causing wildfires, climate change, and mass extinctions and threatening our future collective well-being, forest stewardship means valuing land as creators of life, not just producers of wealth. As noted Canadian ecologist David Suzuki says, “It’s not the planet that has to adapt to the economy; quite the opposite.”
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial policy.
