Once upon a time, actually not long ago, conflict and confrontation were rife in Aboriginal communities’ relations with mining and forestry companies. Now, ‘partnership’ and ‘consultation’ and ‘respect’ are keywords.Half of Cameco’s northern Saskatchewan workforce is Aboriginal, and the uranium company’s list of contractors includes many native-owned firms.
In the Northwest Territories, Diavik Diamond Mine’s operators have developed a productive alliance with Aboriginal communities.
In northwestern Ontario, Pikangikum First Nation has taken bold steps to “be in the driver’s seat” when it comes to responsible development of a big patch of precious boreal forest.
These are ‘good news’ stories for the communities involved, as they represent opportunity and potential prosperity in places where unemployment and poverty run high. But are they isolated instances or part of a trend? Do they bode a future of greater inclusion for Aboriginal peoples in Canada’s resource sectors?
Melanie Sturk is one observer who believes we’re seeing great changes, though she cautions against over-generalizing.
“I think definitely things are getting better in terms of community and company relationships,” Sturk says from the Ottawa offices of the Mining Industry Human Resources (MiHR) Council, where she is Director of Attraction, Retention and Transition. “That being said, each situation is different and some companies and some communities are more receptive to each other than others. However, I think overall the industry and the communities are much more interested in working together.”
One element of that trend is the increasing Aboriginal presence in the workforce – and MiHR is helping to nurture this happy development with Mining Essentials, a partnership program with the Assembly of First Nations that was developed with the Metis National Council and other important organizations. Mining Essentials prepares Aboriginal Canadians for employment with a combination of classroom sessions and practical experience. The pilot stage of the Canada-wide program concluded in February 2011, and it was a great success.
“I think this is a really good example of how industry and Aboriginal peoples can come together and create something that is more effective,” she continues. “One of the very important pieces of qualification (for a training site in the program) is that there’s a three-way partnership happening with a qualified educator, at least one company and the community all on board.”
Another part of the steadily improving relationship between mining and Canada’s indigenous peoples is the increasing occurrence of impact and benefit agreements, or IBAs. Reached between mining companies and First Nation communities, IBAs formalize relations, reduce environmental and other impacts, and secure economic benefits for affected communities. They are simultaneously a means for business to improve interaction with Aboriginal people on the one hand, and a powerful expression of Aboriginal rights on the other. On balance, they can rightly be seen as hopeful signs.
In forestry, a northern BC logging company called Coast Tsimshian Resources serves as something of a model or template for First Nations aspiring to take control of their destinies. Owned by Lax Kw’alaams First Nation, the company holds two forest tenures and is allowed to cut more than 500,000 cubic metres annually. It has been exporting wood to China since 2009, and has sent dividend cheques to band members.
Four provinces to the east, the struggling Pikangikum First Nation has established the Whitefeather Forest Management Corporation in pursuit of the same sort of success Lax Kw’alaams has found with Coast Tsimshian.
BEACON OF HOPE
Aaron Palmer, Planning Forester at Whitefeather, says the corporation’s focus at this point is forest management planning. “The intent of the Whitefeather Forest Management Corporation is economic development, and the part that we’re working on now is getting a woodlands operation up and running. There is work being done to look at building a mill facility in the Whitefeather Forest that would receive wood harvested within the management unit.
“Pikangikum First Nation is looking at building a forest products processing business which will produce products with the highest value end use of the wood fibre,” he continues from his office in Red Lake. “The strategy is to use a ‘value chain optimization’ approach for developing highest-value uses from the quality timber available on the Whitefeather Forest.
“Really what it comes down to is the elders of Pikangikum had a vision for their ancestral lands, to be in the driver’s seat for what happens and also to provide jobs for people. Given that the Whitefeather forest has such value, they wanted to ensure the optimum use of the resource.”
The main partnership in this case is between Pikangikum/Whitefeather and the provincial Ministry of Natural Resources, though the Aboriginal community is open to the possibility of partners in the private sector.
Palmer enthuses that Whitefeather is “a massive beacon of hope” for Pikangikum, a community with greater than 90% unemployment. Aboriginal communities frequently came out on the losing end as companies based in faraway big cities cut down trees and created mines in pursuit of profit, with arguably not enough regard for the impact on native land, water, heritage and livelihood.
Industry’s relationships with First Nations and Metis people have been riddled with conflict, perhaps most dramatically demonstrated by blockades that have periodically sprung up across the country. One of the longest-running blockades is near Kenora in Ontario’s northwest, where Grassy Narrows denizens first blocked logging trucks back in December 2002. The dispute still roils on, with the Aboriginal side heralding a court victory last summer when an Ontario Superior Court judge ruled that the province had infringed on treaty rights.
Further north in Ontario, Marten Falls First Nation has imposed (and ceased) blockades on ice landing strips and mineral exploration in the chromite-rich Ring of Fire. Matawa First Nations’ Ring of Fire Co-ordinator, Raymond Ferris, seemed to succeed in finding détente between member First Nations and exploration companies, but then Matawa chiefs announced in October their withdrawal of support for Ring of Fire development.
On a more encouraging note, four First Nations signed an agreement in August to develop a service corridor for Ring of Fire activities. “We want to work with the government, the industry and all other people that may be involved in that process (of Ring of Fire development),” Webequie Chief cornelius Wabasse told Thunder Bay’s Chronicle-Journal. “We want to be fully involved in the development.”
The relationship between Aboriginal peoples and industry is still imperfect and, indeed, far from ideal. But most observers would agree that it is better, and the mining and forestry sectors are making efforts to improve them still further.
Gary Merasty, a Cameco Corp. Vice- President and former Grand Chief of the Prince Albert Grand Council, says the uranium company has made great progress in bridging differences and strengthening ties with First Nations in northern Saskatchewan.
The proportion of Cameco’s Saskatchewan mines workforce that is First Nations, Metis or northerners has more than doubled to about 50%, Merasty notes from the company’s headquarters in Saskatoon. “We are at this time Canada’s largest industrial employer of Aboriginal people.”
And the progress isn’t limited to people drawing wages from Cameco, he notes. “We have a very proactive northern preferred supplier program. Upwards of 70% of all the services that we require at our mine sites are procured or purchased from northern-owned businesses or companies. We insist that these companies are 50% or more Aboriginal-owned and have Aboriginal management in place, and also that they follow our aggressive employment targets.”
Merasty, who once represented northern Saskatchewan in Parliament, says Cameco tries hard “to really understand the context or situation the northern communities or the First Nations and Metis find themselves in. So we’ve spent a lot of time in community meetings being available, responding to each and every request within a timely manner. We work closely with them in designing initiatives on community investment, on these business investments, on the employment, education and training investments.
“I think over the last 20 years, the company and the men and women within Cameco have really developed a trusting relationship within the communities,” he summarizes. “The community leaders know who the president of our company is, know who the vice-presidents are. Employees are the greatest advocates we have in the communities. They talk about working with Cameco and for Cameco, and they get involved in community events as volunteers. So a lot of social capital has been built up over the years.”
Cameco has won awards and industry recognition for its approach, and so has Diavik Diamond Mine for its own success in bridging differences and building relationships with Aboriginal communities in the Northwest Territories.
Like Cameco, Diavik has been a trailblazer and trend setter in IBAs – though the gem-mining partnership (60% Rio Tinto, 40% Harry Winston Diamond Corporation) calls them “participation agreements.”
“We use the term ‘participation’ because we view our relationship with any Aboriginal group as a partnership,” says Yellowknife-based Diavik spokesperson Doug ashbury. There are five Aboriginal groups in the area of Diavik’s mining operations, and Diavik has a participation agreement with each one of them, he adds.
Diavik further contributes to community economic development with apprenticeships and training, buying from Aboriginal contractors, and an Aboriginal Leadership Development Program. Some 1,100 people are employed either directly by Diavik or through contractors, and 30% of those people are Aboriginal. At the time of writing, the company had more than two dozen apprentices, most of them Aboriginal.
Two Aboriginal business success stories that Diavik’s community-mindedness helped bring to fruition are Bouwa Whee Catering and Tli Cho Logistics. Bouwa Whee (“I’m hungry” in Weledeh) is a 100% Deneowned firm that has expanded beyond food services to supply other mining-camp support. Tli Cho provides site services that include airstrip maintenance, snow clearing and handling of aircraft on the ground; it employs more than 250 people. Ashbury says Diavik has, over the past decade, spent $2 billion with northern Aboriginal businesses and their joint ventures.
NORTHERN PROGRESS
Northwest Territories and Nunavut Chamber of Mines Executive Director Tom Hoefer says mining companies and the federal and territorial governments have done an outstanding job lately forging partnerships in a part of Canada that, when diamond mines were first being constructed, was notable for having no settled land claims. In 20 years, he notes, NWT miners have gone “from virtually no Aboriginal employees to one of the country’s leaders in Aboriginal employment.”
In 1995, Hoefer says, you could have counted the number of Aboriginal businesses at the diamond mines “on, like, two fingers. Now there’s about 25 of them. "So that’s the positive side,” he continues from Yellowknife. “Where the negative side comes in is generally where a claim is not settled.”
Land claims disputes often engender court challenges and uncertainty. Hoefer says one result is that, predictably, potential investors can be “a bit gun-shy about what could happen to their projects.” That’s particularly true of exploration companies lacking the deep pockets of a Rio Tinto-size corporation.
Still, Hoefer (a former Diavik employee) sees reasons for optimism. One positive omen, he says, is a memorandum of understanding the Chamber signed this past July with Akaitcho Dene First Nations to promote “responsible mineral exploration and development.”
“It’s also encouraging that we have the federal government working on a regulatory improvement initiative, because the regulation we have up here has become very complex,” he adds. The process started in October with a workshop in Yellowknife bringing stakeholders together.
Cameco’s Merasty says the uranium miner is in northern Saskatchewan “for the long term … And so we work at continuing to build our relationships.” Community agreements will be improved, good will is being strengthened, and communities are set to prosper along with Cameco, he declares.
At Whitefeather head office, Palmer notes that other First Nations are also taking the reins in forest management and setting up robust forestry-related businesses. He hopes Pikangikum, drawing from other First Nations’ inspirational work, “can lead the way and provide more inspiration for other First Nations.”
Few would disagree that there’s a solid business case for companies building bonds and alliances with Aboriginal communities. There’s much to be learned from the experiences of Cameco, Diavik and other firms that have strived for harmonious relations with the land’s original peoples. A key lesson is simply this: Doing the right thing and doing the smart thing can be one and the same.
