Author Archives: Garth

Forest Music in the Halls of Science

For two years, from 2008 until 2010, I worked as the Aboriginal initiatives manager in the Forest Sciences Centre at the University of British Columbia. Forests equally inspire both hemispheres of our brains. However, the halls of academia are typically imbalanced toward the tangible and technological, rather than the ‘mere’ meditative or musical. The forestry textbooks begin their introductions with the statement “forestry is both and art and a science”. I found this statement intriguing and I always searched in the table of contents to find the sections and chapters devoted to the art in forestry. But there were none. Later, when I asked for more clarification about these art-references in forestry textbooks, the foresters I asked just smiled and said they didn’t know. The practice of forestry ‘was allowed’ to be called an art in the introductions to old forestry textbooks. And forest scientists allowed themselves to be ‘a bit kooky’ at times. But this was the extent of really involving themselves in the art of forestry. Fine arts and forestry performances was for children or passionate environmentalists – it was not in the calculations of the men and women of science.

I thought it would be quite easy to define an introductory course in the fine art of forestry simply by making the sketching of trees and shrubs, for species identification, a required course. How we could have engaged both hemispheres of our brains then! Or we could have made hand-built clay sculptures of old growth tree stems. Or, we might have learned and sung the forest songs of the Musqueam First Nations on whose lands the University now occupied. What conversations and designs about the integrated uses of forests, for wildlife, fisheries we could have created with the Musqueam! But this was not to be. The beauty in the art in tending the forests and forest uses was acknowledged to be somehow important; but these intangible (non-economic) benefits of spiritual rejuvenation, protecting wildlife and acquatic ecosystems, and the integration of ‘all our relations’ in healthy forest ecosystems was mostly ignored. Of course this is not surprising because until the 1980s in British Columbia at least, forestry was considered to be primarily an engineering and economic ‘science’ applied for the liquidation of old growth forests. With reforestation still a poorly enforced industry requirement, all that is growing back in BC forests is by the grace of nature. It wasn’t until the 1990s that forest ecology was accepted as a required course in the Faculty of Forestry at the University of BC. The study and appreciation of all the relationships between biodiversity, trees, people was counter to the project of liquidating old growth forests.

From my music background and from my work with the Northern Secwepemc peoples I knew the importance of whole forests for maintaining our spiritual wellness and integrity and the interactions of all forest components. Every important discussion about forest uses in Northern Secwepemc territories began with a song and prayer. A walk through the forest with an elder felt to me like a walking meditation, while engaged in a systematic discussion about acceptable uses. Sadly, all of the forest scientists that we walked with in Northern Secwepemc territory were not well-schooled in this art of engagement with whole communities and forests. But things are changing. Persistence and a more systemic understanding of the art of forest stewardship is beginning to be taught and learned in the Forest Science Centre at UBC. But systems thinking falls short of systems doing and being. And so the students have little or no direction in the fine arts of engaging their body-mind and spirit in their work. Learning how to be conscious of our communication, technique and rhetoric- a skill that is fundamental in fine and performing arts, is still missing in forestry; but we are learning it as we begin our reconciliation with First Nations.

I loved to volunteer at community gatherings at the First Nations House of Learning at the University of British Columbia. Cooking and setting up chairs at community events was one way I could engage with students and to discuss Aboriginal community initiatives. And later, when it became known about my music skill at piano and singing I was encouraged by organizers to ‘warm up the crowd’, at larger community gatherings and celebrations. Despite the ongoing colonial history of forest management in British Columbia, it felt good to be both a musician and a forestry representative at the UBC First Nations community gatherings. With our combined music and through our hopeful discussions, came a measure of reconciliation.

I realized that nothing prevented me from playing my flute in the atrium hall of the Forest Science Centre. Although the fine art of forestry is undefined and unsupported it can with some moderation, still be practised. The acoustic space of the atrium with its high ceiling and tall laminate pillars is a model of an open forest. The flute sounded haunting and ethereal. It was not intrusive or imposing at all. Soon, some of the ‘forest’ dwellers (students, staff and some faculty) emerged on to their ‘perches’ of the surrounding balconies and began to smile fondly at the tacit meaning of this ‘forest’ music). Here we discovered that the intangible becomes tangible; but only as quiet gifts and through awareness and practise.

Supreme Court Title Decision Validates Xeni G’wetens’ Work

The Victoria Times Colonist staff writer Les Leyne gives credit to a past BC Supreme Court Judge David Vickers in his editorial article “title decision validates judges work.” And of course this is as it should be. Vickers did display more than due diligence in pulling together all the evidence in his 2007 judgement to recommend Aboriginal Title in the Xeni Gweten land claim. But if we are really interested in justice we should also give credit to the little village of Xeni Gweten who have for decades peacefully, and persistently defended against insolent incursions into their territories. They have done this with little or no outside help. This takes not just a few years of dedication, discipline and teamwork -but generations. In particular I want to highlight the work of the Xeni Gweten Chief Roger William who brought the Xeni Gweten Land Claim to this important resolution.
During the course of inquiry that resulted in tens of thousands of pages of testimony Roger William was asked 8000 questions. The patience, persistence and devotion to the truth of Chief Roger William is something that seems to be too easily overlooked by the media. Withstanding the weeks of gruelling questions by the Province and their agents to discredit the Xeni Gweten title claim must have been very, very difficult. Judge Vickers provided the structure for what would become the decision to recognize Xeni Gweten title to their lands. But it was Roger and the Xeni Gweten that provided the content for the decision. And they must have done this with incredible strength against adversity, impeccable teamwork and spirit, to survive it all, with their claim validated.

Back in 1998 I had the good fortune to work on a forest community economic development project with Roger William and the Xeni Gweten. I had some experience in interviewing community members (in Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities) about their community assets for developing business. Everyone has their daily chores to attend to and I thought it would be difficult to get access to the key community members. I thought it would take weeks to come to collectively understand the best community development ideas for the community. But I was wrong. Chief Roger William and community members explored the answers to my questions with me. Without presuming what course our community forestry economic planning would take, we uncovered the best information at exactly the right time from exactly the right people, all within a few days of my arrival in the community. The thing that most impressed me was how the project was given respect by all who we interviewed. As an outside non-Aboriginal consultant I wasn’t expecting so much goodwill and help. None of our interviewees were paid and they all were asked to come to the Band Office to talk to me. Roger and his staff had the most effective ways to contact the people that we needed to interview. Community ‘runners’ would ‘put the word out’ that their knowledge was requested at the band office and within days we had a structure for our community economic plan. I remember that Roger and his economic development staff offered their ideas as community leaders, ‘just as information’ to be considered in our overall planning inquiry. It seemed that Roger and his staff did not want to presume what would be the outcome of our plan without first carefully listening to the whole. Of course, it was a huge honour for me to take notes for Roger William and his community advisers. Because of the teamwork and community coordination displayed by Roger William and the Xeni Gweten, we were able to effectively accomplish a few weeks of interview work, in just a few days.

We discovered (and it was no surprise) in our plan that the biggest barrier to forest community economic development for the Xeni Gweten was the lack of investment capital for their projects. While outsiders were helping themselves to the natural capital of the Xeni Gweten resources, the Tshilqotin peoples remained impoverished. I am hopeful that now with Aboriginal title to their resources confirmed, there will be more opportunity for the Xeni Gweten to grow in ways that their community members find acceptable.

mixed musical arts “reconciliation song”

Here is the first of a 5 part video series that outlines the principles that were derived from my PhD research with Northern Secwepemc communities. In our project we tried to envision what respectable co-management and collaborative learning might look like. The main lessons of the PhD project were transformed into an online course and is now available at www.udemy.com/learning-how-to-learn-with-kitchen-table-committees.

Blog

Knowledge and Respect:
by Garth East Greskiw

Being, changing and seeing. It’s that simple, with or without writing. Whether it is called reflective observation, praxis, or adaptive management we must constantly change and adapt our actions to ensure a sustainable future for forests and forest-based communities.

For indigenous communities, the rationality of continual adaptation and changing with environmental constraints is obvious. An evolving learning cycle of continuous being, changing and seeing with nature has ensured survival for indigenous people for millennia. “Adaptive environmental assessment and management”, is only recently being acknowledged by foresters as ecosystem-based forestry and the ‘way of the future’ (and not the present); but it is a principle so basic in traditional North Shuswap knowledge as to be obvious.

The Shuswap word “Secwepemculecw” stands for “Shuswap territory”; but at a deeper level still known to some, it may imply ‘the land and the people, and all their relations taken as one’. Implicit in this relationship is a sacred responsibility of the Shuswap people to continually care for lands and resources of their traditional territories for the benefit of all – including those of future generations.

The problem of communicating across cultures is found mostly in sorting out the complex and tangled webs of meaning that have been made out of written English words over the past few hundred years. It can also be difficult to fully understand in English why connotations of a term like “management” or “control” are problematic from the perspective of First Nations language and culture. A focus on team-work and problem-based learning could nurture listening and helping skills in individuals; but these approaches to learning are not yet central in the curriculum of most colleges and universities.

In Western culture, we take such pride in our abilities to measure, control and dominate that we have become less able to listen, to wait and to adapt to what nature is ‘telling’ us. It has been said that very literate people are like spiders, in that they spin webs in a solitary way from the written words that they can conjure from papers. To learn humility about my ‘powers of literacy’ and my associated weakness in orality, I find this image useful. Instead of living and continually interacting through speech and story telling, mutually supported in a network of relationships in the ‘here and now’, literate people like myself relate best to their webs, and perhaps to their unsuspecting victims, who could become trapped among what might become ‘word games’.

Socrates noted that writing has this strange quality about it “leading us to imagine that its words speak as though they made sense, but if you ask them anything about what they are saying, if you wish an explanation, they go on telling you the same thing, over and over forever”. Such is the purposeless and bewildering effect of print media when it is disrespectfully imposed on people (Bernier 1995, Freire and Macedo 1987).
Indigenous people and others struggling to achieve the sustainability of their forest-based communities know that a relationship of care and respect between the spoken word and the written word is what we must keep a wary eye on.

I am grateful to the Northern Shuswap people – the Northern Secwepemc te Qelmucw for helping me in understanding and for helping me to learn how to apply ‘praxis’ to ‘open just the right doors at the right time’. One must proceed carefully in making and interpreting meanings – but we must do it nonetheless.