Published as part of our Indigenous Perspectives series of Indigenous-led climate research, produced in co-operation with the Centre for Indigenous Environmental Resources.

The Golden Rule, as it is commonly known today, of treating those around you how you would want to be treated, is a moral principle of philosophy found in many cultures throughout the world. Remote Indigenous communities on the west coast of Canada are no exception. In a recording taken in the early 1990s, late Ahousaht elder Caroline Little shared a story in her language that invokes this same principle. When revealing the lesson in the story, she said “ʔuyaasiłaƛ n̓aas” (uh-yah-sith-akth naws), which means “something happened to the weather.”

In Caroline’s story, the weather was the protagonist, wielding its power and might to enforce the important teaching to treat others with respect. Her story is best told through her language, where the English constraints of isolating environment and land from the community cannot take hold; within her language these important concepts are interconnected. Compared to the ancient roots of Caroline’s language of Nuu-chah-nulth, climate change is a relatively new concept that is now making its way into languages throughout the world. Nuu-chah-nulth does not yet have a direct translation for this concept. However, through language and stories like Caroline’s, we can better understand climate change and our response to it, within the living moral principles and teachings of effective stewardship, so that we might better strive for oneness with the environment around us.

Faced with the ongoing threat of climate change, Indigenous knowledge and stewardship practices are vital to land use planning and natural resource management. Within Canada, Crown government land use planning departments are gradually beginning to implement policy to act in full partnership with Indigenous communities, recognizing the role that Indigenous stewardship over lands and waters has played in sustainable natural resource management and economic development since time immemorial (Alangui et al. 2018). Additionally, Indigenous communities are increasingly recognizing the benefits and potential of conducting both independent and collaborative planning processes. Land use planning in Indigenous territories that adheres to Indigenous governance and law protocols provides a means to support the well-being of communities and ecosystems. Planning can become a tool for sustainable economic development, environmental conservation, and the minimization and adaptation to climate impacts through incorporating Indigenous knowledge and culture into decision making.

For Indigenous knowledge to be implemented appropriately throughout these planning processes, Indigenous communities must either act in a leadership capacity or be full partners if the planning involves provincial, federal, or municipal orders of government. 

The use of Indigenous languages, and specifically Indigenous place names, is a significant dimension to stewardship that can be unearthed through Indigenous-led planning.

Indigenous language and knowledge should also play a significant role in climate action efforts. The value of Indigenous knowledge comes from living among and as one with the land and understanding the complex systems and gradual changes taking place over time. In many cases, particularly throughout Indigenous communities in Canada, this knowledge is shared through the language and oral history, and in many cases the true value of the knowledge is often very challenging to translate. For Indigenous communities, language carries the culture, teachings, law, governance, and connection to the territories. Language sits at the heart of stewardship. With most Indigenous languages in Canada at risk of extinction, recognition and preservation of these languages are necessary responses to decipher the knowledge needed to combat climate change (Krupnik et al. 2018).

Amongst British Columbia’s 34 Indigenous languages (First Peoples’ Cultural Council 2018), many have words or phrases similar to hišuukiš cawak (hish-ook-ish tsah-wok), or “everything is one and interconnected,” in the Nuu-chah-nulth (new-chah-noolth) language, from the west coast of Vancouver Island. This important teaching, heard throughout many communities in different regions, references the deep connections that Indigenous communities have with their surrounding lands and biodiversity. It speaks to the inherent need and sense of duty to preserve, respect, and protect one’s relations and one’s community.

As guided by the language and the teaching of hišuukiš cawak at the core of stewardship, this case study explores the land use visioning community process of the Ahousaht First Nation. Ahousaht’s land use vision demonstrates how integrating Indigenous place names into planning processes can provide critical biological and cultural details to inform policy and management regimes and better understand the impacts of climate change.

Indigenous land use planning in British Columbia

Indigenous communities in British Columbia have been practicing stewardship and sustainable management of natural resources since time immemorial (New Relationship Trust 2019). Stewardship was not historically achieved through contemporary land use planning processes as we see them today, of course. Instead, it was developed through deep connections and respect for the lands and waters and the inherent understanding of the sustainable use of resources. Indigenous land use planning as we see it today in the province is, by contrast, reactive to encroachment and land allocation by colonial systems, and reactive to the use and management of lands and waters by federal, provincial, and non-Indigenous local governments. Tenures, developments, and divisions enacted from these government bodies have compromised Indigenous stewardship practices as guided by law and governance and have put Indigenous communities in a position of response and reaction. Responses can include partnership, settlement, or confrontation, prompting Indigenous communities to engage in official land use planning processes to fight for continued stewardship over their territories using modern planning techniques that are recognized by external governments and stakeholders.

Today, land use planning for Indigenous communities can take many forms. For example, planning can follow a government-to-government approach, such as British Columbia’s modernized land use planning program (Province of British Columbia 2022b) or it can be developed independently within the community. In the case of the Ahousaht First Nation, land use planning has been developed in partnerships with external stakeholders and non-governmental organizations. The Ahousaht land use vision was completed independently from crown government within the community, with technical and financial capacity and support of an external conservation organization (Maaqutusiis Hahoulthee Stewardship Society 2017).

The Ahousaht First Nation on the west coast of Vancouver Island, the focus of this case study, named their process a land use vision to clearly demonstrate that it is a working document that adheres to Ahousaht law and governance protocols, and is to be revised and revisited as needed.

This coastal community places particular importance on allowing land use adjustments and changes to best serve the community and the territory most effectively for future generations.

Climate change and land use planning

British Columbia is already seeing the devastating impacts from climate change, including mass flooding, harrowing wildfires, and drastic weather changes that set new temperature or precipitation records each year. Rural and Indigenous communities face particularly high risks from these impacts. Many rural and Indigenous communities in British Columbia have experienced mass destruction and displacement, and the threat of further damages only continues to increase. These communities are particularly vulnerable due to their rural and coastal geographies, socioeconomics, and reduced access to technical assistance. Many communities also lack the capacity to develop and implement robust mitigation, adaptation, and clean growth strategies (Whitney and Ban 2019). Similar to many small island nations around the world that are on the frontline of the climate emergency (Climate Refugees 2022), many coastal communities in B.C. have become vocal advocates for action at the global level to prevent further devastation. Advocates believe that without the implementation of immediate and substantial climate action, we will begin to experience an outflux of people fleeing their territories due to climate related changes or hazards (Donatuto et al. 2014), rendering homelands inhabitable. 

Rising ocean levels, flooding of rivers, and other landscape-level changes are not the only issue: the problem is paired with impacts to food security as a result of changes to food systems from extreme weather events and rising atmospheric air and ocean temperatures (Marushka et al. 2019). These changes cause the ocean to become less productive, the numbers of plants and animals used for sustenance harvesting and cultural practices to dwindle, and fresh water to become scarce and contaminated. Local economies suffer, with loss of revenues from commercial harvesting and downturns in tourism from the lack of proper infrastructure and the degradation of the natural landscape. These effects are gradual but substantial, widespread, and cumulative, and must be met with natural resource management and land use planning from an Indigenous perspective that has been proven sustainable over thousands of years.

Ahousaht First Nation’s Land Use Vision

This case study examines the Ahousaht Land Use Vision developed by the First Nation of Ahousaht, which is located on the west coast of Vancouver Island, approximately 40 minutes north by boat from the popular tourist town of Tofino. The Ahousaht territories cover over 170,000 hectares, span from Meares Island near Tofino Harbour to Hisnit near Hesquiaht Harbour, and encompass large portions of Vancouver Island including parts of what is known as Strathcona Park. The territories include temperate rainforests, countless islands, many shorelines, and mountain ranges with extensive biodiversity and habitat. They are known throughout the world for their beauty and bounty and as a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve (UNESCO 2018).

Ahousaht First Nation, as it is known today, was originally made up of six separate nations that were amalgamated through war. What is now the Ahousaht main village of Maaqtusiis (mock-too-cease) was formerly the village of the Uutsuutsaht (oots-oots-sawt) people. Ahousaht has a governance structure comprised of three houses, each led by a hereditary chief, hawił (hah-with), and each with different roles and responsibilities within the community. In the 1950s, a chief-and-council governance structure was implemented in Ahousaht through the Indian Act by the Federal government. This form of governance was intended to replace the hereditary structure, using an electoral system to seat new leadership, though in Ahousaht the inaugural chief and council were appointed by the hereditary chiefs rather than elected.

Today, both hereditary and elected governance structures persist, though the hereditary chiefs no longer appoint chief and council. Elections are now held by the community, and the chief and council under this colonial governance system have been empowered by the Crown government under the Indian Act to act on behalf of the community. This outside approval and influence represent an example of how colonial systems have been undermining cultural governance since first contact and, in many cases, have impeded Indigenous communities from maintaining stewardship practices over their lands and waters.

In an effort to re-establish its stewardship and enact Ahousaht law and governance over natural resource management, the Ahousaht hawiiḥ (hah-way-ah) established the Maaqutusiis Hahouthlee Stewardship Society in 2012.^[1] The Society engages in all matters of resource management and economic development for the entirety of the Ahousaht territories under the four guiding principles of iisʔaḱstaƛ (ee-sock-stockth), respecting one another, haaḥuupstaƛ (ha-hope-stockth), teaching one another, yaʔakstaƛ (ya-uck-stockth), caring for one another, and huupiił’aƛ (who-peeth-ahkth), helping one another. 

Under the Stewardship Society in 2016, the Ahousaht hawiiḥ opened the land use visioning process with intensive community sessions with Ahousaht people living both within the territories as well as in select urban centers where many Ahousaht people reside. Community members were asked to provide input into maps to outline their ideas on future conservation and developments within the territories and share ideas on which areas hold cultural significance and should be preserved. This process yielded seven distinct land use designations that defined the allowable and prohibited activities within each. Designations that held potential for more intensive development include the Forest Management Areas and the Communities Development Areas, accounting for just under 18 per cent of the total territories. The designations slated for measures more aligned with conservation encompassed the remaining 82 per cent of the Ahousaht territories. These designations include Watershed Health Areas, Cultural and Natural Areas, Shoreline and Island Management Areas, and Marine Harvest Bays.

Through the planning process and the appointment of specific land use designations, the importance of including Ahousaht place names was repeatedly highlighted. Acknowledging and incorporating these place names underscores how place names can reveal and apply a deep knowledge of the changing landscape, demonstrating the importance of ensuring that Indigenous place names are reflected in matters of the lands and waters. 

Ahousaht’s place names reflect a different relationship with the land and waters than the modern colonial place names that are used today. Ahousaht place names do not encompass large areas but rather smaller defined areas. They are sometimes circumstantial and reference the experience of one individual or a one-time occurrence, but some also allude to the ecosystem services, biodiversity, and cultural importance of sites, as further analysis of the origin of the name can reveal.

The impetus to incorporate the knowledge held within place names into the Ahousaht Land Use Vision, as well as the actual place names themselves, came mainly from the participating community members and elders who engaged in the planning sessions. In conducting this research, the Stewardship Society also relied on a research project published in the 1990s by Canadian forestry company MacMillan Bloedel, which has proven to be a very useful resource that includes interviews with elders documenting over 900 Ahousaht and Tlaoquiaht place names (Bouchard and Kennedy 1990). Within each place name description, Ahousaht elders shared their insights on each name as well as their experiences of specific biological changes at the places that were the result of  colonization or a shifting climate. Examples of such changes include reference to abandoned spawning areas where fish were once abundant, or where seasonal homes were once built and now no sign of them remains. Historical knowledge and indicators such as these can provide vital information allowing for critical data input into the land use planning process, such as helping to determine locations for focused salmon restoration efforts, ideal areas for residential development or expansion, or areas in need of enhanced conservation measures.

Indigenous knowledge for climate action in land use planning

Historically, Ahousaht villages were located near areas of sustenance gathering, and many place names indicate this alignment within the Community Development Area designation. T̓iikwuwis (teak-woo-wis) describes a root-digging beach, ʕisaqnit (ice-awk-nit) a place of wild onions, and mukʷnit (moo-kwin-it) a place where the deer feed on ferns. The names provide guidance to the unique characteristics that made each of these sites habitable for the Ahousaht people prior to colonial contact, knowledge that is critical to the well-being of a community that is heavily dependent on sustainable harvesting.

The Ahousaht Land Use Vision that emerged from this research establishes designated Community Development Areas that have been identified as areas for potential future residential expansion outside of Maaqtusiis. The population of Ahousaht is large and continues to grow, requiring infrastructure growth within Maaqtusiis and into other areas of the territories. The Ahousaht Hawiiḥ want to ensure that there are space and opportunities available for Ahousaht people wanting to live and work in the territories. They hope to create this space through stewardship, sustainable development, and diverse economic and career opportunities.

Place names can also inform community planning by identifying landscape features that could impact infrastructure development. ʕaʔukʷnak (eye-ah-u-kwin-awk), for example, which is a community adjacent to Maaqtusiis, has undergone improvements and expansion for residential homes. ʕaʔukʷnak translates to “it has a lake,” and this lake was said to once house a special species of sockeye salmon when the Uutsuutsaht inhabited this area. This lake used to drain into the bay on the shoreline, though in the early 1900s, when missionaries came to Maaqtusiis to build a residential school, they filled in this lake to turn it into a field. As nature took back over, some of the water returned, creating a bog that now houses cranberries that the community harvests.

Ahousaht is particularly vulnerable to rising water levels, rising ambient temperatures, and rising ocean temperatures. The Ahousaht Land Use Vision has designated areas as Shoreline Management Areas, which encompass large portions of the shoreline throughout the territory. This designation allows for the maintenance of conservation zones for food harvest, cultural access, and transportation, even when those areas are adjacent to other designations within the Land Use Vision that allow for more intensive development opportunities.

These shoreline areas include areas of great cultural, historical, economic, and social importance to the Ahousaht community. For example, Numaḥt̓aʔa (new-mah-ta-ah), meaning “forbidden creek,” references a historical site where significant events occurred, as detailed through oral history. The importance of this site to the Ahousaht community led to it being granted a specific Shoreline Management Area designation, to ensure that the history and teachings from this site are respected and preserved.

Many place names also reference the food that is or was available for sustainable harvest by the Ahousaht people. Huʔuł (who-oolth) is such an example, translating to “where the cormorants slept,” indicating that this is an island frequented when hunting cormorants. Nearby is Qʷinqiit (kwin-keet), which describes the area as a seagull resting place and where seagull eggs are gathered. These precious shoreline areas may be the first impacted by rising tides and warmer oceans, compromising nesting grounds and food sources of critical beings in the holistic community ecosystem. The region’s great biodiversity is not only a source of sustenance for the people of Ahousaht; it is an essential part of the cultural teachings of hišuukiš cawak, underscoring the responsibility of those who live in relationship with this territory to protect it.

Integrating place names into the Ahousaht Land Use Vision has not only helped the people of Ahousaht to see and recognize the actions that must be taken to better prepare for and adapt to a changing climate. It has also helped non-governmental planning partners, Crown governments, and stakeholders to see as well. Within the Ahousaht territories, place names serve as a reminder of the bounty that the delicate shorelines, rich forests, and vast marine areas provide the Ahousaht people sustenance, culture, wayfaring, biodiversity, and ecosystem services.

The bay of ƛakišus (clock-ish-us), protected under a Cultural and Natural Area designation, is one example of the bounty that these names reflect. It describes the use of the area by migratory grey whales for rubbing the beach to rid themselves of barnacles and parasites. This rubbing is a critical ecosystem service being provided to the whales, iiḥtuup (ee-hah-toop), further highlighting the intent for protection and preservation under a conservation land use designation at this location. Maqy̓aaqw̓aqƛił (mawk-yawk-walk-klith), a cave in Millar Channel on the east side of Flores Island which has also been granted a Cultural and Natural Area designation, represents a culturally important site for the Ahousaht. Translated as “corpses in a cave,” Maqy̓aaqw̓aqƛił was historically used for burial and is only accessible at specific tidal levels.

Place names also serve as markers for history and teachings of the area, such as at the shores of Katkuwiis (kut-koo-ees), located along the well-known ecotourism corridor the Wildside Trail. The trail sees hundreds of visitors a year passing through the village and the beaches, bringing with them economic opportunities for community members. This section of the trail, currently known as White Sands Beach, is a popular section for camping, though this is also a key location in a gruesome 14-year battle that took place in the early 1800s between the Ahousaht and Uutsuutsaht (Sam 1997). This was the battle that ended with Ahousaht taking over the Uutsuutsaht territory and amalgamating the nations. As the risk of rising ocean levels looms, this area, which defines current governance within the territories through the amalgamation and acts as a historical touchstone, a significant tourism destination, and a catalyst for sustainable economic opportunity, may soon be lost to the tides.

Place names can indicate the possibilities of what is to come in the future, as well as what has been lost. The place name Cuuxʷnitapi (tsoo-kwin-it-app-eh), translating to “coho jumping”, indicates an area of shoreline in Bedwell Sound at the mouth of the Bedwell River. One of the elders interviewed by Bouchard and Kennedy (1990) shared that he had not seen coho there before, but that it was historically understood that this is where they once ran. Specific historical knowledge about this area has helped to develop salmon restoration projects over the past couple of decades and has initiated further salmon saving efforts.

The Ahousaht Stewardship Guardians, a program under the Maaqutusiis Hahoulthee Stewardship Society tasked with stewarding the territories under the direction of the hawiiḥ, even took drastic measures during the 2021 heatwave by moving juvenile coho out of warm, shallow pools into deeper areas of the Bedwell River where they could better escape the deadly heat (Wood 2021). The Ahousaht Stewardship Guardian Program is implementing the knowledge found within place names for on-the-ground efforts for cultural stewardship, as well as for observation of climate-related changes on the lands and waters.

Many Indigenous communities throughout British Columbia have similar stewardship programming, providing an ongoing presence in their respective territories. Such programming is critical for implementing land use planning within Indigenous territories. It is also on the frontlines of data collection and observation of the impacts of climate change on the landscape.

Conclusion

Retention and revitalization of language and land-based knowledge are necessary for land use planning and natural resource management within Canada and around the world. The Ahousaht Land Use Vision highlights the importance of recognizing Indigenous place names as cultural and land-based knowledge that can help guide natural resource management and climate action from an Indigenous perspective. Investing in stewardship capacity and programming can establish data hubs within Indigenous communities that can cross-reference cultural knowledge such as place names with biological and ecosystem features and changes.

Many Indigenous communities throughout Canada have already begun such initiatives, despite the limited support from Crown governments for these programs. Unfortunately, given the geographical vastness of the country and the complexity of data storage and collection, stewardship programming is not yet given the same weight and importance as academic or research institutions. The collection and analysis of cultural and environmental data are crucial to the ecological restoration and good governance of communities throughout Canada—Indigenous and non-Indigenous alike—and each community should be empowered and supported in undertaking this important work, which is vital to long-term health and well-being.

Additional funding and support from provincial and federal governments should also be provided for Indigenous communities to undertake the research and recording needed to document place names and implement unofficial and official place name changes within their territories. Formalizing these changes and having the names adopted and made into law would provide greater opportunity for education and cultural resilience. Efforts to integrate Indigenous place names can be supported by the departments currently responsible for unofficial and official name changes at both the provincial and federal levels with Natural Resources Canada (NRCAN 2022) and the B.C. Ministry of Forests, Lands, Natural Resource Operations, and Rural Development (Province of British Columbia 2022a). Simplifying and streamlining the process for Indigenous communities to restore their place names through official and unofficial name changes would promote greater awareness around climate risks and adaptation solutions, while furthering language revitalization, reconciliation, and Indigenous knowledge data collection.

Updating policy regarding the environmental, social, economic, and cultural impacts of land-based decision making at the provincial and national levels would provide Indigenous communities with the opportunity to apply the critical ecological and cultural information that place names and Indigenous knowledge contain. Integrating Indigenous knowledge and Indigenous perspectives at the initiation of land use planning processes is critical. Integration can help establish cultural and ecological Indigenous knowledge data as the baseline and can guide decision making towards the stewardship practices that Indigenous communities have been thoughtfully practicing on the lands and waters for many generations.

Though the resurgence and legitimization of Indigenous place names alone cannot resolve climate change, place names can serve as a tool for local peoples and visitors alike to observe and understand the impacts of climate change on a specific location, drawing on the experience of generations of people upholding the laws of hišuukiš cawak and living as one with the environment around them.

[1] Hawiiḥ is the plural form of hawił, hereditary chief.

Published as part of our Indigenous Perspectives series of Indigenous-led climate research, produced in co-operation with the Centre for Indigenous Environmental Resources.

This case study provides a foundation for a wider, more inclusive understanding of what it means to be resilient in an Indigenous context.

Many Indigenous Nations in British Columbia (B.C.) have maintained connection to their seasonal round of activities—the annual cycle of land-based practices that have sustained these Nations since time immemorial—despite the recent shifts that we are collectively experiencing as the climate changes. By using the seasonal round as a touchstone for adapting and continuing land-based activities, the application of each community’s values and protocols to the perception of resilience in their context can lead to a holistic and grounded demonstration of rez-ilience: our own understanding of how to be resilient.

The integration of both social and ecological aspects of resilience will reinforce the deep knowledge held by Indigenous Peoples of how to live sustainably, as well as how to successfully adapt to change. These inclusive and grounded understandings of rez-ilience can lead to more progressive, relevant, and effective climate policy and decision making. Indigenous Peoples have shown the efficacy of ecologically rooted resilience through our long histories of living in balance, in connection, and in harmony with the environment.

This case study is a continuation of the work I have been doing on my Master’s thesis, which looks at climate resilience in Indigenous communities. This case study is informed by my own living understandings of what Indigenous climate resilience is as a Gitxsan woman, and through interviews and surveys completed by Gitxsan community members. This study is supported by the work done by Gitxsan scholars before me.

Lip Seksinhl Jebin (Clean up the mess that you made)

Climate change—the warming of the atmosphere as a result of the burning of fossil fuels—is responsible for the worldwide increase in extreme weather, forest fires, disease transmission, pests, and species loss. Although the majority of the emissions responsible for climate change were released by colonial powers, the adverse impacts disproportionally affect Indigenous people (Abate and Kronk 2013; Donatuto et al. 2014; Green and Minchin 2014; Vinyeta et al. 2015; Chisholm Hatfield et al. 2018). The intense warming over the last fifty years can be linked to human-caused global greenhouse gas emissions from the extraction and burning of fossil fuels (United Nations 2020; IPCC 2020). This warming has caused significant changes in Gitxsan territory, and is beginning to shift the Gitxsan seasonal cycle of use. These changes to annual cycles and patterns, the seasonal round, are one more example among many of the consequences of the lack of balance and harmony in our relations with the Earth.

Because of this failure to connect the social and the ecological, the Eurocentric understandings of resilience that are dominant today are at odds with the kincentric and relational nature of Indigenous worldviews. In other words, within Indigenous worldviews, humans and nature share ancestry and origins. In other words, kin or relatives include all natural elements of life (Salmon 2000). Eurocentric understandings of resilience, on the other hand, speak of adapting and changing while remaining within a critical threshold (Berkes and Ross 2012). They leave no space for the deep relationships Indigenous people hold with their territories, nor for the sense of stewardship and responsibility that accompany these relationships. Lastly, these understandings do not account for the strength and resilience already demonstrated by Indigenous Peoples, who have survived colonization and past climatic changes and have continued to thrive.

Restoring balance is a difficult task. It involves viewing the Land as a relationship, and as a sacred responsibility between ancestors and kin (Turner and Clifton 2009; Whyte 2013; Whyte 2014; Snively and Williams 2016; Wilson et al. 2019). Defining and understanding rez-ilience in a way that reflects the strength, responsibility, and relationships to Land is a foundational step to building holistic and effective practices that reflect relationality, responsibility, and stewardship.

Living on the frontlines of this environmental crisis, Indigenous communities are adapting to climate change by using the same spirit of resilience they have demonstrated time and time again throughout history.

Daxgigethhl get elhl la’oo’m (The people were healthy long ago)

The Gitxsan (also spelled Gitksan) People are from the northwest coastal region, and live at the unceded confluence of the Skeena, Nass, and Bulkley Rivers in British Columbia. Gitxsan territory is mountainous and heavily forested, falling within the Interior Cedar Hemlock Biogeoclimatic Zone (Figure 1). Gitxsan territory occupies 33,000 square kilometres in the northwestern portion of the province and is slightly larger than the land area of Belgium (Main-Johnson 1997). The Gitxsan have occupied this area since glaciers retreated around 15,000 years ago or shortly thereafter, and have demonstrated their resilience since time immemorial. Today, there are six Gitxsan communities: Gitanmaax, Gitwangak, Gitsegukla, Gitanyow, Anspay’axw, and Sik-e-dahk.

Culturally, the Gitxsan share similarities with the coastal Nations of the Pacific Northwest. Gitsenimx, the language of the Gitxsan people, is rooted in Tsimshianic, a language family spoken in the unceded territories of northwestern British Columbia and southeastern Alaska. Like other coastal people, the Gitxsan uphold the feast system. Within the feast system, there are four pdeeks (clans), which are passed down through the mother: Giskgaast (Fireweed), Lax Gibuu (Wolf), Lax Skiik (Eagle), and Lax Seel (Frog). Positionality within the huwilp (house) system governs many aspects of daily life, including resource and territory access and responsibility. The Gitxsan calendar recognizes 13 moons (months). Moons are descriptively named and those names give insight into phenomena occurring in the natural world during that month, as well as how the Gitxsan responded to those changes and events on the land (Table 1). The 13 moons in the Gitxsan seasonal round are divided up into four seasons: Gwooyim (spring—March, April, May); Sint (summer—June, July, August); Xwsit (fall—September, October); and Maadim (winter—November, December, January, and February).

Gitxsan understandings of resilience are infused with a holistic understanding of ecosystem management. Gitxsan people know their place as a part of the Land and have a sense of responsibility to the Land. The Gitxsan community members I spoke with reinforced concepts of connection, respect, holism, balance, and ceremony, which contribute to good stewardship of territories. When asked, many of the words Gitxsan people use to describe resilience are reflected within the Gitxsan wheel of philosophy (Figure 2). The wheel of philosophy guides Gitxsan values, and therefore guides the interactions with the seasonal round on the Land. These values are upheld within the seasonal cycle and are a reflection of the respect the Gitxsan have for the Land and for each other, which uphold the sense of caretakership and responsibility that allowed the Gitxsan people to live sustainability for thousands of years.

As Gitxsan scholar MJ Smith says, “Gitxsan spirituality was [holistic]: it is intimately connected with all things in nature. Animals, water, rocks, trees, and earth all have spirits and are all gifts from the creator…. Everything growing from the Land was a part of the Gitxsan. That was why the Gitxsan respected the Land and felt that it was sacred” (2004). The teachings, protocols, and ceremonies within the wheel of philosophy reinforce what it means to be Gitxsan, but also teach how to have good relations with the Land. In other words, the wheel summarizes the sustainable ways in which Gitxsan people lived for millennia, honoring harmony, balance, and interconnectedness in their relationship with the Land. These teachings inform Gitxsan rez-ilience, which I now understand to mean, Observing the changes occurring on the land, and working to uphold the teachings that have been passed down since time immemorial.

Aa’t’ikshl ‘wii t’ism wis (A storm is coming)

The Indian Act and Residential Schools restricted, as they did with many Nations, the authority of the Gitxsan people over their community, their governance, and their system of land and resource management. Despite this, the feast systems have persisted, and hereditary governance remains largely intact. Both colonial and traditional forms of governance operate within Gitxsan territory. Like many Indigenous Nations in B.C., the Gitxsan are in tune with the annual cycles of changing seasons. Gitxsan life and culture are founded on the seasonal cycles (Figure 3). The cycles influence the areas in which we as Gitxsan people live, hunt, harvest, and perform aspects of culture.

In the past, the turning of the seasons and the activities within each season were predictable. However, like many other places in B.C. and around the world, Gitxsan territory is experiencing variable temperatures, which impact the plants and animals. Climate change is altering the predictability of seasons, which changes the Gitxsan seasonal round. The descriptions of activities associated with each month in the Gitxsan lunar cycle no longer fit with the observed events on the landscape, and no longer reflect how the Gitxsan ancestors lived on the land. In an effort to better understand these changes in seasonality, I interviewed four Gitxsan community members, and collected 17 written surveys.

All of the participants spoke of the changes taking place throughout the Gitxsan territory, which influence how we, as Gitxsan people, are able to practice seasonal activities.

The timing and abundance of berries and medicines are different, for example. They are blooming at different times, which forces harvesters to choose between harvesting one species or another. During the heatwave of 2021, many of the plants showed visible signs of heat stress, which meant fewer berries to harvest. These destructive events are happening more and more, and are also beginning to impact other species that rely on these resources. The inconsistency in harvestable plants and forage affects the moose, who are not found as consistently throughout the territory.

This is what we call a cascading effect: a shift that creates a series of other shifts. Xadaa (Moose) are an important species in Gitxsan territory; they often forage for vegetation during the same times as the Gitxsan. Moose are now seen less frequently and are not in the same areas they used to be. Having reduced access to moose not only destabilizes the ecosystem; it is also beginning to impact Gitxsan food security. Every year, there are fewer and fewer salmon, and they are often in worse condition. To the Gitxsan, the salmon are a culturally significant species. They are an important source of protein, are in a lot of Gitxsan stories, and hold a special place within the feast hall. Fewer salmon jeopardizes food security and the crucial link to culture and identity.

These changes are shifting the Gitxsan seasonal round of activities—the very ways in which we as Gitxsan people exist on the Land (Figure 4). In the Gitxsan worldview, resources are valued as intrinsic, as a food source, as a source of economy and trade, and as a connection to culture and identity. A changing climate “challenges the fundamental belief about how elements of the natural world are connected, as well as the timing of when traditional patterns occur and behaviors are formed” (Chisholm Hatfield et al. 2018). The Gitxsan view of seasons ties together timing and connections: it describes a whole-systems change, and how “interactions among things are moving in relationship to one another.”

As the seasonal round shifts, culture, language, and the Gitxsan identity also shift. Culture and identity are founded on the Land and its cycles. As we are confronted with changes on the Land, we will be forced to try to adapt pieces of language, our culture, and our ways of knowing and being on the Land. However, it is important to understand that a change in relationship does not equate to a loss in relationship. Redefining our relationships with the Land to include contemporary uses and ongoing adaptation to a changing climate is at the very centre of rez-ilience.

Indigenous values, concepts, and ways of being are not reflected in the way government thinks about resilience. The lack of a definition inclusive of community-land relationships, stewardship, responsibility, and kincentric bonds has contributed to climate policies and management strategies that are inequitable and cede far too much power to the settler state. Policies devoid of relationship, responsibility, and accountability to the Land and our relations work to further capitalism, economy, and extraction at the expense of community, ecology, relationship, and reciprocity.

Yukw na Hagwil yin (Learning to walk softly)

Common understandings of resilience assume it refers simply to the ability to recover from shocks and stress (Summers et al. 2016). A lack of a compatible understanding of resilience, rooted in relationship, undermines the ability of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people alike to practice resilience. Too often, imposed understandings of resilience exclude Gitxsan practices, values, and philosophies upheld in feast halls, in ceremony, and in ways of knowing and being. Imposed approaches to resilience also inhibit our ability to implement creative, applicable, and encompassing management solutions and adaptation strategies that incorporate Gitxsan expressions and worldview. In essence, they do not make space for the kincentric relationships and responsibilities that inform the Gitxsan culture and worldview.

A key part of understanding Gitxsan rez-ilience is acknowledging the resilience that has always been demonstrated and then applying that same spirit of strength to facing climate change. Based on what I have learned and what I have been taught, to me, Gitxsan rez-ilience is the ability to weave together all that we have learned from the past into rising to the challenges of the present and the future. In other words, Gitxsan rez-ilience is strength-based and holistic. It is founded on a sense of responsibility to maintain the Land and exists in relationship to the Land, much as Gitxsan people do. Further, Gitxsan rez-ilience is the ability to persist and survive. It is the ability to uphold traditional laws, ceremony, and protocols of management that were successful in the past, and to adapt them for current needs, goals, and dreams. It is balanced, interconnected, and harmonious. It is rooted in relationships and is founded on the responsibility that Gitxsan people have to steward and take care of the Land for future generations. It should be understood that as with the Gitxsan themselves, this definition and understanding of rez-ilience will adapt, grow, and change.^[1]

By combining the teachings of the Gitxsan wheel of Philosophy with the shifting timing of the seasonal round, we arrive at what it means to be resilient within a Gitxsan context.

The seasonal round teaches how and when to be on the land, and the wheel of philosophy teaches how to carry oneself with respect to relationships and responsibilities as a kincentric people.

Understanding this, effective climate policy needs to be approached holistically: it needs to make space for responsibility, accountability, and relationship. It must incorporate place-based values that take into account the intensity of the changes we are seeing within the seasonal cycle across “Canada.” Only then will resilience be inclusive of harmony, balance, and interconnectedness, and only then will it reflect Gitxsan understandings of their place within human-ecosystem relationship

Emerging from this research, and rooted in this understanding of resilience, I would offer the following recommendations for policy makers at all orders of government:

1. Incorporate a place-based lens to climate adaptation, emergency management, and resilience policy. Having policy that is aligned with each Nation’s values, understandings, and philosophies would increase effectiveness and lead to better outcomes. Further, it would start to undo some of the colonial assumptions about human-Land relationships that are entrenched in federal, provincial, and territorial policies.
2. Include seasonal considerations in decision making. Considering seasonality when looking to increase resilience would strengthen ecological resilience while reinforcing social resilience (upholding the ayookxw of the Gitxsan and other Nations, who are in tune with the seasonal changes). Climate policy needs to be designed to consider the changes and needs of each Nation in each season, rather than as year-round blanket statements.
3. Manage for Naadahahlhakwhlinhl (interconnections with all living things). The mismanagement of our resources can largely be traced to fracturing of the Land and our relationship to it. These fractures are reflected in colonial government structures, and therefore are embedded in policy. Effective climate policy needs to be holistic in nature: appreciating the responsibility we have to the big picture, while considering the smaller working pieces.

In my understanding, Yukw na Hagwil yin translates roughly to “learning to walk softly.” In Gitxsan culture, Walk Softly is a reminder to take care in carrying yourself and in how you act. It teaches you to think of those around you, including your non-human relations, and to think of how your actions and words affect them. Learning to walk softly when thinking about resilience to climate change is important. It is a reminder of responsibility to generations coming after us, who will be left to deal with the decisions we make and the world we create. It is understanding how our actions as humans, as Gitxsan, affect the state of our environment, and how the decisions made today will impact the generations coming after us, for seven generations.

The key, moving forward, is to approach resilience to climate change with the same strength of spirit that the ancestors embodied. Look to the teachings in the seasonal round and know that there is a time for everything. Look to the teachings of values and culture and know that resilience is built into Indigenous identities. Look at all we have been through as Indigenous people—and we are still here.

Each Nation will have to determine what values, strengths, and protocols define their expressions of rez-ilience. Since colonialism has impacted every Nation across “Canada” differently, we have many expressions of Indigenous rez-ilience to draw on. We are revitalizing our practices, our languages, and our ways of being on the Land.

Building resilience is a journey. I firmly believe that we as Indigenous Peoples are meant to be leading this work. Our responsibility is to take this work as far as we can, so the next generation can pick it up and continue the journey. This case study and my own understandings of resilience that I share here are a part of my contribution to the larger journey that we are all on together.

[1] These are my own understandings based on my research and what I have been taught—I cannot speak on behalf of my community or my Nation

Appendix A – Glossary of Gitxsan Terms

Adawaak: The oral history of each Wilp.

Ayookxw: Gitxsan laws that ensure peace and order for the Huwilp.

Daax litxwit: Still standing—aassociated with Gitxsan resilience[DM1] 

Deex Goot: Steady, unwavering heart—associated with Gitxsan resilience

Giskgaast: Fireweed/Killer whale Clan

Huwilp: The collective of eight Wilp that collectively constitute the Gitxsan People

Lax Gibuu: Wolf Clan

Lax Skiik: Eagle Clan

Lax Seel: Frog Clan

Lax’yip: The ancestral territories of the Gitxsan

Luis yaltxw: Restored from hard times—associated with Gitxsan resilience

Otsin: Spirit of our People—associated with Gitxsan resilience

Pdeek: Clan—there are four Gitxsan clans (Wolf, Frog, Eagle, Fireweed/ Killer whale)

Wilp: House group—the primary political, social, and decision-making unit of the Gitxsan, each with its own well-defined territories managed according to a strong and enduring system of land management.Xadaa: Moose—a cultural and dietary staple of the Gitxsan People

Appendix B – Voices of the Gitxsan

In completing this case study and as a part of my Master’s thesis research, I had the chance to speak to and learn from many Gitxsan people. It is important that their voices be recognized in this work, and that their understandings and observations be honoured in sharing what I think and have learned of Gitxsan resilience. It should be noted that this is only a piece of Gitxsan resilience, and that I am still learning. My voice is not reflective of the Gitxsan Nation as a whole.

Here are some of the insights that were shared with me in my interviews with Gitxsan people:

 “Preventative measures are being taken to ensure resilience at a local level. Observation of forests, water, and numerous species of flora and fauna is underway. Limiting use of resources, only hunting and harvesting as necessary. Exploring renewable energies and alternatives to exploitative industry. Upholding the wilp governance system and Gitxsan legal order to ensure the future of the territory.”

“Salmon are very important to Gitxsan people. We are probably made of salmon—a major part of our diet for thousands of years and a major part of our culture.”

 “Everything is connected and all things are affected by man. Take too many trees and it causes flooding. The balance with nature depends on loggers and fisherman. Take too much and the supply is diminished.”

 “The laws are still in place—people are pretty strong. Talking to elders, these values don’t go away.”

 “It is just so unpredictable now—we used to know when the water would rise and fall and when the rain would come, but it is so different now.”

 “Moose are harder to hunt in the fall, which it never was before. The resources are scarce, they have moved everywhere and are in different places. It seems like when we do find them there are less, and in different spots than we have found them in the past.”

 “Yes, the feast system is still in place for it will always be our ayookxw (laws), our laws that will keep carrying on for generations.”

 “Our territorial management plan is in effect based on the wilp membership, not Indian status membership. This doesn’t mean that we have respect from the province or Canada as it pertains to our territorial management plan.”

 “If there’s too much rain, there’s no harvesting berries. This year we don’t have enough rain. The soap berries are turning red already; it usually extends until huckleberries are ready.”

“It is called our lax yip (territory). This is where we got all our stories, which are so important. The elders looked after it for us, and now we have to look after it for future generations that are coming.”