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Title: CREEKER: Volume 1
Author: Anonymous
Date: December 30th, 2021
Language: en
Topics: ada’itsx, fairy creek, fairy creek blockade, police, colonialism, feminism, anarchism, blockade, direct action, british columbia, canada, indigenous, indigenous sovereignty, rcmp, ally-industrial complex, civil disobedience, indigenous anarchism,
Source: https://creekerzine.wordpress.com/
Notes: This text has been anonymously transposed from the “CREEKER: Volume 1” Zine available at https://creekerzine.wordpress.com/

Anonymous

CREEKER: Volume 1

“Once I spoke the language of the flowers,

Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,

Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,

And shared a conversation with the housefly

in my bed.

Once I heard and answered all the questions

of the crickets,

And joined the crying of each falling dying

flake of snow,

Once I spoke the language of the flowers....

How did it go?

How did it go?”

— Forgotten Language, Shel Silverstein, 1974

You’ve probably noticed the recuperation by now. How the dominant

culture twists, co-opts, absorbs, defuses, incorporates, and commodifies

resistance in order to heal the rupture opened up by radical ideas and

action. These sorts of processes can sneak up on you. Blink and the

motherfuckers will try to normalize the most mind blowing experience of

your life. An environmental organization riding the coat tails of direct

action, collecting donations that will never be used for grassroots or

direct action purposes. The Green Party speechifying, trying to siphon

momentum to tempt you back into the voting booth.

They’re trying to lure you out of the woods and into a place of

consumer/citizen/ spectator comfort. Why bother getting cold and wet,

risking arrest, draining your savings, when a product can give you all

the sense of identity you could reasonably hope for within society?

Take Tentree for example. They’ll repackage the rhetoric of the blockade

and sell it= right back to you. Join the movement of Earth First

clothing, cover up the bruises of police brutality with this season’s

Lorax Collection of sustainable apparel. Let’s give a shit and shop

sustainable for this year’s Black Fri-, I mean, Green Friday…

It can catch you off guard sometimes. What’s next, a special

blockader-themed issue of GQ? Ten new camo designs for the discerning

covert operator? Five perfect gifts to help someone forget they saw

their friends be choked out by cops? As if it wasn’t hard enough

staggering back into the city to begin with. How best to rest, nurture

new friendships, and integrate our experiences? I think telling our own

stories can play a part in that. Claw back some of that mental real

estate so coveted by our screens. And let’s do it soon, before the

immediacy of our experiences fade. By all means, gather with each other

around beach fires and let’s tell each other some tales. Let’s not stop

at that. Let’s argue, apologize, compare notes, analyze, and support the

hell out of each other, especially those caught up in the court system.

But for those of us that can’t be there at the fire right now, let’s at

least put some of it into print and cast some spells of sharing and

remembering.

This zine is dedicated to the Elaho Valley Anarchist Horde. They

probably didn’t make their zine for us, but it was a hit at the blockade

this summer. Perhaps the scattershot of offerings here will be useful to

the next generation. I hope so. But really this zine is for us, here and

now, as a shield against isolation, self-doubt, and recuperation.

WHAT FOLLOWS ARE SUBMISSIONS ANONYMOUSLY RECEIVED.

All were unatrributed unless otherwise noted. None of the views

represent anything or anyone. Something something entertainment purposes

only. It’s probably all made up anyway. Fever scribbles and refracted

light.

Love and Rage in the Rainforest

August 18^(th), 2021 Ada’itsx (Fairy Creek), Unceded Pacheedaht

Territory—So-called

“Vancouver Island”, so-called “British Columbia”, so-called “Canada”

A year of continuous blockades against logging, on the invitation of

hereditary chief Victor Peter and elder Bill Jones. Three months of

police invasion (aka “injunction enforcement” for logging company Teal

Jones). 1000+ arrests and counting. Thousands of participants, visitors,

supporters... numerous solidarity actions near and far, and logging

blockades underway in various other locations across this colonial

province: british. columbia.

The RCMP’s pension fund owns TimberWest, one of the largest logging

companies on the island. The RCMP’s Orwellian “Community Industry

Response Group” (CIRG) was created in 2017, the 150^(th) anniversary of

Canada’s genocidal statehood, to facilitate militarized policing of

resistance to colonial resource extraction. Recently it has made

significant incursions against the courageous land defenders dug in

around the ancient Ada’itsx (Fairy Creek) rainforest, including a major

assault on the blockade HQ and nearby camps begun on August 9^(th), the

one year anniversary of the first Ada’itsx blockade.

While we would never count out this generational movement which has

already proven its resilience time and again, the situation at the

blockades seems dire at times lately. Our hearts are heavy, but our will

is strong. At this time we offer a brief analysis of some overlooked

aspects of this conflict, our deepest respect to many courageous rebels

involved, and some criticism to the recuperative tendencies which, while

not surprising to encounter, should nevertheless be discussed as the

blockade movement evolves.

It hasn’t been well documented that the CIRG, while appearing

superficially as just one component of the RCMP task force that’s been

attacking the blockades since May 17, is in command of the operation,

strategically deploying counterinsurgency personnel, material and

tactics on unceded Indigenous lands. As much as some might have wished

it to be, this isn’t the early ‘90s anymore. This isn’t Clayoquot Sound,

where mustachio’d mounties carried away a few people a day for weeks on

end, until the legal system was clogged. Anti-logging sabotage and

storming the legislature in Victoria were also decisive forces of

successful resistance in Clayoquot, but have been all but completely

whitewashed from history by movement sellouts and campaigners, ENGOs,

the non-profit industrial complex, and the modern day cult of

“nonviolence”.

Thirty years have passed since then, thirty years of clearcuts, ENGO

compromises, globalization, neoliberalization and corporate capture,

police militarization, the so called war on terror and its attendant

domestic counterinsurgencies, climate and ecosystem collapse in the

context of predatory delay, extreme resource extraction, extreme

inequality, etc. In 2021 at Ada’itsx, the CIRG conducted mass arrests,

but mass incarceration of land defenders isn’t their only method of

repression. While many reformists in the movement see mass arrests

inside the confines of a media-focused civil disobedience campaign as

the only strategy for some kind of victory, the CIRG are not limiting

themselves to playing that game. They are waging broad spectrum

attrition warfare of a different kind.

There have been media-friendly civil disobedience type arrests,

especially in the first few weeks, but since the beginning of the RCMP

invasion, and with a seemingly ever greater tendency in recent weeks,

arrests have been increasingly arbitrary, brutal, and hazardous. The

media spotlight has faded greatly, and journalists themselves have been

brutalized, arrested, or denied access. The RCMP (wearing banned white

supremacist “thin blue line” patches and covering their name and badge

numbers), acting with total impunity and disregard for the admonishment

and rulings of the courts, have continued to use extra-judicial

“exclusion zones”. With these they deny access to media, and illegally

card, search, detain or arrest people, many without charge, often

releasing them within hours nearby, in unpredictable ways and locations.

The RCMP have characterized these as preventive measures, or in other

words, preemptive arrests. The courts have stated that the RCMP has no

duty to prevent injunction violations, only to stop them when they

happen, but the RCMP continue to illegally card, search, detain, and

arrest people who haven’t violated the injunction. Most egregiously,

Pacheedaht and Ditidaht people have been denied access to their own

territory by the colonial RCMP.

“We’re surprised at the RCMP’s determination to crush us... It’s not

just us they’re wanting to crush – they want to protect the economic and

regulatory process that the Canadian government uses to get what they

want off the land, under the directions of the large corporations.”

— Pacheedaht Elder Bill Jones, as quoted in the Guardian

“Legal observers” and the movement’s “police liaisons”, medics, etc are

not guaranteed any special status, and are frequently denied access, or

in some instances brutalized and swept up in detention and arrest along

with everyone else. People not even within an “exclusion zone” or

participating in injunction- breaching activity have been detained or

arrested nearby, contributing to a climate of fear and uncertainty, and

a blurring of boundaries around the blockade actions. The RCMP’s so

called “Division Liaison Teams” (dressed in less threatening garb and

postured to facilitate “safe protest” and “communication” between land

defenders and the RCMP) have shown themselves to be full fledged

combatants in the counterinsurgency, sowing confusion with more blatant

than usual treachery and unpredictability, conducting sudden arbitrary

arrests and other interdictive actions.

Along with hundreds of arrests, the RCMP have carried out hundreds of

direct actions and psychological operations without arrests, such as:

plainclothes and camouflaged officers conducting night raids to

sabotage, steal, or destroy blockade infrastructure, equipment, tools,

shelters, supplies, and personal items... and to utter threats, shine

lights, blare sirens, brandish weapons, bluff charge at people with

police vehicles, etc. Meanwhile hundreds of vehicles near the blockades,

most of which are not blockading anything, have been illegally towed and

impounded until extremely exorbitant “fees” of $2500 per vehicle are

paid. Cops have smashed car windows to arrest people sleeping inside,

steal people’s phones, and several blockaders’ vehicles have been

destroyed with heavy equipment. Tonnes of blockaders’ supplies and

personal possessions have been illegally seized and discarded at nearby

dumps.

Officers and ATVs have been inserted behind blockade lines via

helicopter, and there have also been extremely low helicopter flybys,

using rotor wash and noise as weapons against blockaders. On at least

one occasion, blockaders used their own helicopter to drop supplies for

an isolated blockade camp. Trees have been felled dangerously close to

treesitters, who have also been threatened with tear gas and rubber

bullets, and pepper spray has been deployed against crowds who

successfully stormed police lines to reoccupy lost ground. The RCMP have

also deployed Stingray devices, which mimic mobile phone towers to aid

in tracking and surveillance.

Blockaders using conventional civil disobedience tactics like tripods

and sleeping dragons can no longer count on a “peaceful” arrest

scenario, as the RCMP increasingly use threats, taunts, violence, life

threatening extraction methods, and torturous pain compliance techniques

on people in these physically vulnerable positions. The RCMP, illegally

colluding with Teal Jones to enforce the injunction, have gone from

using excavators and chainsaws in extremely hazardous ways (the business

ends of such equipment often running within inches of blockaders’ faces)

to extract people from tripods and lockdowns in trenches, to chainsawing

or knocking over tripods until people fall, burying trench occupants

with dirt and gravel, and ramming people with vehicles, resulting in

serious injuries, for which medical treatment is denied or delayed. Some

blockades with people locked down in trenches have been neutralized by

cops placing boards above them so they can be driven across, even while

people are still locked down beneath them. Many people have also been

denied access to food and water, subjected to prolonged sun and heat

exposure, and been locked in police vehicles parked in the sun until

they pass out from heat exhaustion.

Indigenous and other marginalized people are usually blatantly targeted

for the worst brutalities. There have been many incidents of officers

sexually assaulting women. There is no overstating the degree of

violence and brutality that police (and in some instances, loggers) are

using against land defenders. Ruthless beatings, choking people into

seizures, pepper spraying people at point blank range in the face and

genitals, dragging people by their hair and neck, etc. Only recently

have ambulances been allowed to attend the scene. Most blockaders have

had to seek medical care from comrades or at nearby hospitals. It’s only

by chance that no one has been killed at the blockades yet. An

Indigenous youth who was denied access to their seizure medication while

arrested, died of cardiac failure weeks later. A youth who was arrested

and whose phone was smashed by the RCMP, died of an overdose a few days

later.

There is no such thing as nonviolence. Blockading is economic violence.

Some logging industry workers have lost their jobs due to the blockades.

Digging trenches in logging roads is economic violence in the form of

sabotage. “Peacefully” obstructing the RCMP’s invasion for three months

is economic violence against the state. Offering one’s self up to be

beaten to a pulp by a cop or a logger while in a lockdown is violent, to

one’s self and one’s community. Blockaders voluntarily suturing their

arms together to dissuade arrest is not only violent to themselves, but

potentially to other blockaders and police via blood-borne illness.

Courageously, some land defenders are breaking free from the theatre of

the absurd that is the cult of nonviolence. Some folks have been

resisting arrest, de-arresting comrades, pushing police as they push

past police lines (using a tactic called “the blob” which is somewhat

similar to the black bloc), holding steady at a blockade position and

then vanishing into the bush before they can be arrested, etc.

Strategically, gates have been locked, others have been cut free of

their locks, and increasingly, the police themselves are the target of

the action, whether it’s a clandestine lock on the gate to their

compound, or a blockade setup specifically against their vehicles. Just

as we can’t overstate the level of police brutality at the blockades, we

can’t overstate the amount of rebellious courage, bravery and fortitude

that land defenders bring to the frontlines every single day. The

movement has also has a deep understanding of the need for a holistic

approach to resistance, developing meaningful capacities for grassroots

aftercare and sanctuary for frontliners, and a broad spectrum of

frontline and non-frontline resistance that people from a diversity of

backgrounds and identities can participate in.

Some in the movement, some of whom have political ambitions, and are

generally some of the more privileged people involved, are more

terrified of this than of the invading genocidal paramilitary known as

the RCMP. Like party whips, they try to enforce the dogma of nonviolence

and non-escalation, equating sabotage with violence, blaming victims of

police violence who act in self defense, demanding evidence of police

violence and seeking repentance from those who physically resist...

oblivious to – or in denial of – the reality that the movement has been

escalating its tactics for many months. Blockade tactics that were once

thought of as “too radical” are now so frequent as to be mundane.

Something as simple as piles of logs and rocks left to block a road,

without people there to take responsibility and offer themselves up for

arrest, have moved from outliers to commonplace. Naturally it’s much

easier to do things like this before the cops are on site!

An influx of radical youth, frequently comprising a majority of blockade

participants at a given time or place, including many Indigenous youth,

have brought a much needed grassroots Landback grounding, and have

called bullshit on “pro-industry, pro-old growth”, and pro-police

movement marketing, flipping the script on all counts, while some

resistance inspired by the Ada’itsx blockades targets logging that isn’t

just token remnants of old growth, and has no love for the racist

colonial money pigs (RCMP).

The saturation of reformist nonviolence dogma contributes to deflection

of resistance vs state forces to recuperative diversions... nauseating,

ill-informed and/or misleading calls for police reform,

“accountability”, post-action lawsuits, an attempt without precedent to

nullify the injunction through legal channels, and slogans that

reinforce the carceral state like “lock up the real criminals” (ie. the

logging industry and its captured politicians). The pervasive notions

that “bad policing” or “dishonest politicians” are to blame, obscure the

reality that this colony’s police and politicians are doing exactly what

they’ve been mandated to do. They sharpen their knives and attack, as

inequality and repression increase, resources are depleted and the

planet dies.

The cops are the army, are the industry, are the government, are the

predator, are the enemy, and this is nothing if not a war for our very

survival... BC’s perennial “war in the woods” is not just a catchy,

metaphorical brand. We hold the enemy accountable by defending the land,

defending ourselves, and fighting back. We are accountable to ourselves

when we realize that there is no such thing as justice, only liberation,

and do what is necessary to make it happen.

Along with our criticism, we offer huge shouts to the Ada’itsx blockade

movement... for its strong anti-colonial and feminist values, its

ingenious creativity, its logistical wizardry, its rebellious spirit,

its relentless mobilization, its proven abilities to outmaneuver cops

and retake lost ground, and its absolute commitment to throw down hard

on the land for over a year now. May it continue for many more!

We continue to push back against ENGOs and politicians who weasel their

way in, and those who enable them. The grassroots autonomy of this

movement is vital to its strength, and its very existence. A generation

has been lost to repression, gentrification, transphobia, nihilism,

mind-numbing ENGO politics and protest routines, and colossal ENGO

compromises like the “Great Bear Rainforest” agreement. Perhaps a new

generation of resistance is being forged in the frontlines at Fairy

Creek.

Shout out the Gitxsan blockade...Skoden! Shout out the Tlia’amon and

Homalco youth who blockade Western Forest Products. Shout out the

grassroots Nuxalk taking a stand for their land, and calling bullshit on

the horrifying sellout that is the GBR deal. Shout out Hiladi Village...

Landback, no more treaty-making! Shout out Old Growth Revylution...

direct action gets satisfaction! Shout out the rebels who blockade the

RCMP in Castlegar! Shout out Sutikalh and Voice for the Voiceless!

For a diversity of tactics. For unmediated hostility against the state.

For total liberation.

— some anarchists

[Editor’s Note: This piece appears on bcblackout.wordpress.com, which is

well worth browsing. See especially

bcblackout.files.wordpress.com/2020/07/smashtealjones2016-web.pdf for a

previous zine that was put out in 2016 when the same company, Teal

Jones, was trying to log in the Walbran.]

Civilization

We are capable of great grace and resiliency that is only taught by

nature to those who commune with it. Civilization teaches us to listen

to our mind and not the wind. Civilization forces us live high up and

not listen to the stories of the winged beings. Civilization teaches us

to seek the edges of technology and not to seek the textures of the

trees. I have learned that the ceremony of the settler is to create our

own relationships with the land, to have authentic creative connection

to the land and not to borrow from traditions. I have learned our basic

needs are the basic needs of plants.

May We Find Our Way Back to Our Mother

I am currently taking a rest day from the frontline blockade at

Waterfall camp. Making time to recharge and heal is essential because

giving is easier when your cup is full. It feels rather strange to be in

the city. A place where traffic never stops and locals sip lattes while

grandmother trees are slaughtered in silence. I have this feeling deep

inside my stomach; something must die for our consciousness to be

reborn. I’m not sure if it’s greed, desire, or culture of consumerism,

but our mother is dying. We all must come together to ensure that our

government helps us heal her wounds. We cannot bathe our cities in blood

to cleanse the concrete jungle. Water is god, and water is life. Carve

out time to protect this entity. Isn’t it absurd that we call filtered

water clean? When we could sip from a crystal stream in the heart of the

old-growth. I prefer the taste of minerals to fluoride. Most of the

world is backwards. Indeed, there is chaos on the frontlines. However,

there is also respect and care for our mother. We fight to protect her

beating heart and sacred waters. Love overcomes every act of violence

that the RCMP imposes. Industry haunts our nightmares, and we still

stand to wake. The law has deemed us criminals, because the law no

longer reflects justice. Corporations have bought out our courts. It is

more than time to demand justice and liberation for Nature and her

children.

May flowers bloom in oil fields.

May birds sing lullabies to clear cuts so the sun can soak their

bleeding bodies.

May we see the river run clear and free.

May we find our way back to our Mother.

Talk and Log: Sometimes the Carrot, Sometimes the Stick

It is my strong opinion that one of the biggest reasons why the Fairy

Creek nlockade has become such a high-water mark of decentralized

struggle is that it was organized on a grassroots level without ENGO

(Environmental Non- Government Organization) involvement. The Choose

Your Own Adventure ethic that is so celebrated at Fairy Creek is a

direct result of this decentralized style of resistance. And these just

aren’t things that Ancient Forest Alliance, Wilderness Committee,

Stand.Earth or any other ENGOs are capable of providing. You simply

don’t have people experiencing this level of community and having such

powerful experiences in campaigns run by the industrial non-profit

complex, full stop. When it comes to these sorts of developments, I

believe Fairy Creek has the potential to become a major turning point in

the history of land defense in BC. But for that potential to be

realized, it is helpful to understand how movements become co-opted and

how uncommon decentralized struggles have become over the past 20 years.

One classic example of ENGOs co-opting direct action in BC was the fight

for the Great Bear Rainforest that took place from the mid-90’s to the

mid-2000’s. This remains relevant to Fairy Creek today as many of the

same organizations are involved. However, it’s hard to come across a

history of the Great Bear Rainforest that isn’t based on the narratives

established by the ENGOs and government.

Off the coast of Bella Coola is an area known to Nuxalk people as Ista

(aka King Island) and it is considered the center of their territory and

culture. In 1995 and again in 1997, members of the Nuxalk First Nation

set up a blockade on Ista against logging being done by Interfor, one of

BC’s recurring resource extraction baddies. Combined there were over 60

arrests, including multiple Nuxalk chiefs. During the latter blockade,

the RCMP deployed 40 cops as well as a helicopter, plane, boats, and

kept the Coast Guard on standby.

Early on in the struggle Greenpeace, ForestEthics, Sierra Club, and

several smaller ENGOs signed a basic protocol agreement with the Nuxalk.

However in 2000, in clear violation of that agreement, the three major

ENGOs banded together, unilaterally declared an end to direct action,

and started negotiating with industry and government behind closed

doors. This major about-face undermined blockade donations and the

ensuing confusion eventually led to the end of the blockades, leaving

the Nuxalk and their supporters with nothing to leverage, while also

cutting the smaller ENGOs out of the equation.

For the first time in modern history in BC, there would be no public

planning process deciding the fate of massive expanses of forest (6.4

million hectares in this case). In addition, the BC government would

only allow the Nuxalk Nation a seat at the negotiating table if the

nation agreed to join the BC Treaty Process. The Nuxalk had already

previously rejected the Treaty path and would not be coerced, so they

were left out of the talks entirely. According to Chief Qwatsinas, the

Nuxalk “could see that it wasn’t what we wanted because it was very

limited, was kind of corrupt and really bent towards the industry.”

Not only would this cabal of major ENGOs refuse to inform the Nuxalk of

the ongoing developments (which was in violation of the protocol

agreement), they also signed a confidentiality agreement with government

and industry, such that they weren’t allowed to badmouth the logging

companies, the logging practices, or the marketing of the wood products

that were produced. Dru Oja Jay, an independent journalist, sums up the

process:

“So what happened was there was direct action, there were blockades,

there was an international marketing campaign that put a lot of pressure

on the companies that were logging in the Great Bear Rainforest but the

end result was that that all fed into a closed-door negotiation with

Tzeporah Berman leading the negotiation as chief negotiator on the

conservationist side, where a lot of the groups that actually did the

work (the direct actions and the market campaigns) were shut out of the

process. Public oversight was removed and the protocol agreements that

were signed with First Nations and with conservation groups were

basically shunted aside ... The protocol agreements gave the negotiators

a mandate to negotiate 40–60% conservation but what happened was they

agreed to 20%.”

The negative consequences of the reduction in conservation were

significant. For the Nuxalk in particular, as if being sold out by the

ENGOs wasn’t enough, Ista and four other primary heritage locations

throughout the territory were all left without any protection at all.

Ista itself was clearcut by Interfor not long after. Speaking in

hindsight, Chief Qwatsinas said of the whole affair:

“I believe the so–called Ecologically Based Management and Great Bear

Rainforest Agreements were only to buy some time for the industry and

wait for the resistance to the clearcut logging to stop. Of course

neither of these phoney deals save the forests: they are a farce because

logging continues as before... The process on the table is a legal

contract with an official gag order... It is disappointing that big

environmental groups go against their word and say negative things about

First Nations. I don’t believe that this representation is good for

their campaigns as environmental groups nor is it good that they are

signatories to the disreputable Great Bear Rainforest Agreement...The

phoney Great Bear Rainforest deal is yet another example. Like most of

Indian history; it is hidden or concealed so that the general public is

not aware of it.”

Fast forward to 2010 and the Canadian Boreal Forest Agreement.

Participants include Greenpeace, ForestEthics, CPAWS and the David

Suzuki Foundation. This time it’s the fate of 72 million hectares being

negotiated in secret, without participation of any First Nations groups

and without any public planning process. The agreement is only really a

deferral and doesn’t reduce the overall rate of logging whatsoever.

Sound familiar? Despite this, it is touted by Greenpeace as “the biggest

forest conservation agreement on earth. Ever”. But really,it’s classic

“Talk and Log” politics, as the decades-long criticism of the BC

government’s forestry policy sums up. At least this time, the ENGOs and

industry publicly acknowledge the non-interference pact they’ve entered

into.

As the CEO of the Forest Products Association says during a press

conference announcing the agreement, “One interesting piece of the

agreement is with [the ENGOs] on our side, when someone else comes and

tries to bully us, the agreement actually requires that [the ENGOs] come

and work with us in repelling the attack and we’ll be able to say ‘fight

me, fight my gang’.”

These types of outcomes shouldn’t be all that surprising, provided we

take astep back and look at the history of ENGOs as a colonizing force

that has consistently undermined direct action.

Paul Watson breaks it down nicely:

“I personally have no use for large institutionalized environmental

organizations. I think they’re more of a problem than a help. They’re

just eco-bureaucracies and you know I won’t name any because I don’t

like to badmouth organizations except for one which I feel that I can

and that’s Greenpeace. And the reason I can criticize Greenpeace is I am

a co-creator of Greenpeace and therefore I feel like Dr. Frankenstein

sometimes and I feel that since I helped create the thing, I could

certainly criticize it. And I think that Greenpeace has become the

world’s biggest Feel-Good organization now. People join it to feel good,

to feel “I’m part of the solution, I’m not part of the problem”.

Greenpeace brings in close to $300 million a year and what do they do

with that money? Generate more money ... And the people who are at the

top of the totem pole now are not environmentalists, they’re

fundraisers, they’re accountants, they’re lawyers, they’re business

people... It’s not strange to me when people tell me that well you know

that the former president of Greenpeace now works for the logging

industry of Canada, or the former president Greenpeace Australia now

works for the mining industry. The former president Greenpeace Norway

works for the whaling industry. See because it’s just one corporate job

to the next.”

While the police (or the military in the case of Oka and Gustafsen Lake)

will always be the final boss in any particular land defense, one of the

biggest threats to decentralized movements continues to come from the

non-profit sector. Much of how people understand environmental movements

is completely shaped by the ENGO worldview. Moneyed interests will

always shape the history in the textbooks and so many budding activists

grow up understanding environmental resistance from perspectives that

are inherently co-opted, sanitized, and institutionalized.

ENGOs have the money to get ads printed, the media ties to get their

sound bites aired, the long-established mass mailing lists, and the

books written after the fact to ensure their narrative is the one that

prevails. In short, they have the content creators working under

capitalist deadlines to saturate the public imagination. Consequently,

they have colonized much of what is seen as environmental “resistance”

and in doing so have greatly limited what we imagine to be the limits of

possibility when it comes to conflict with industry, government, and

colonization. All the while, accounts from people who have actually

played a part in unsanctioned direct action are much harder to come

across.

These institutions function as pressure release valves for resource

extraction politics within capitalism. By only going after the

low-hanging fruits, they ensure the bare minimum is done in order to

pre-empt civil unrest. In doing so, ENGOs sellout any momentum gained by

grassroots movements. There are many factors influencing the methods and

outcomes of these organizations: philanthropic donors often have

socially conservative values and have no interest in rocking the boat;

the top-down hierarchy of ENGO structures reproduces disempowerment and

cynicism at every turn; there is a fear of civil suits and of losing a

non-profit/charitable status if they support activity that they cannot

entirely control; and there is tendency for institutions to become an

end unto themselves.

Combined, these factors mean that ENGOs will always aim low/shoot low in

any campaign. The mechanisms by which they operate all tend towards the

weak outcomes, all the while undermining direct action, grassroots

organizing, and local indigenous groups.

There were people involved early on at Fairy Creek keeping ENGOs at

arm’s length and I thank them for their foresight. Some of these

organizations, like Ancient Forest Alliance, capitalized on the

old-growth trend to raise money for themselves while in no way actually

providing material support for the blockade. However Wilderness

Committee, Stand.Earth (formerly ForestEthics), and in particular

Tzeporah Berman all tried to insert themselves at various points during

the Fairy Creek blockade. These are groups that have repeatedly excluded

grassroots and First Nations groups from the negotiating table. So while

we can’t be entirely sure of their ulterior motives and grand schemes

this time, it’s safe to assume none of these groups are doing anything

fundamentally different than they have in the past and that they will

continue, in some way or another, to perpetuate their own green

capitalist colonial ideology that completely undermines grassroots

direct action.

Case in point: A February 2021 letter to the BC government signed by

Ancient Forest Alliance, Stand.Earth, Wilderness Committee, Sierra Club,

and UBCI asked for provincial funding in developing a provincial old

growth strategy:

“We urge the Province to turn to examples like the Great Bear Rainforest

Initiative where $120 million in funding — $60 million from conservation

organizations, $30 million from the federal government, and $30 million

from the province — helped Indigenous communities (emphasis added)

develop new businesses and undertake stewardship and restoration

programs associated with protecting a third of the Central and North

Coasts of BC.”

None of these groups or individuals have ever apologized for the role

they played in the Great Bear Rainforest or Canadian Boreal Forest

agreements and instead they continue to spin it as a shining example.

Nothing has changed. For all we know they are still under a gag order to

this day. Their own individual salaries and institutional longevity are

contingent on prioritizing donors being able to feel good because a

certain percentage of forest is ‘protected’ thanks to their donations.

How much forest actually get spared the scourge of conventional

industrial logging matters little to them on a practical level.

In response to criticism of her part in the Great Bear Rainforest deal,

Tzeporah Berman has said, “What we say to our critics is, if you can get

a better result, do it”. Which is true only because ENGOs are looking

for very different results than the rest of us. And whatever results

they do get, they will undoubtedly announce as a Huge Win. They are

looking for marketing opportunities for their own brand in order to

leverage donations from the ultra-rich. And even when smaller groups

aren’t funded by philanthropists, the hand-me-down ideology remains the

same: collect signatures and email addresses to show you’ve got a large

following, drop an occasional banner or hold a rally for photo ops, and

try to convince the government that you are worth collaborating with, to

the exclusion of the unruly grassroots.

Decentralization has been a strong point of Fairy Creek. It is a

feature, not a bug. One of the advantages is that the government, Teal

Jones, and the RCMP have no idea how to control it. They want to meet

adversaries on certain battlefields, preferably in courts, or at least

in an urban space, and certainly with designated leaders. And if no one

steps forward as a leader, they will strong-arm someone into that role

so they can co-opt them and trot them out at press conferences. Then

they will ask for the blockades to come down temporarily as a good faith

gesture, the negotiations will happen in secret, without any

anti-capitalist or anti-colonialism that can be so tricky to work

around.

Beyond the advantage of being less susceptible to co-optation,

decentralization also has the kinds of prefigurative benefits that

captivated so many people this summer. Having no formal organization,

self-determination allows for the types of empowerment and sense of

agency that exists in semi-autonomous, contested spaces like the Fairy

Creek blockade. There is much to reflect on about how we affect change,

what it is we even want (we don’t all want the same things), and what it

means to try to be in community with each other.

If, however, we allow the powers that be to deputize and seduce a few

naive individuals, then we should be ready for the disappointment and

resentment when some awful deal is signed, the movement is snuffed out,

and a new agreement is held up by the BC government as a ‘success

story’. Friends don’t let friends become collaborators. The ENGOs seek

to disrupt our movements by bribing the most articulate and charismatic

among us with paid jobs. “We’ll just pay you to do what you’re already

doing!”, they’ll say. But the offer of such carrots is but a long bid to

slowly convert the idealism of youth into a sort of crude pragmatism. A

pragmatism that slowly devolves into the sort of opportunism that

perpetuates careerism on a small scale and the perpetuation on the

status quo on the larger scale.

The difference between the carrot and stick diminishes when we realize

that both are wielded by the same hand. Anyone who spent more than a few

days at the blockade during active enforcement this summer has a very

visceral understanding of the good cop/bad cop strategy. But in a larger

sense, what are ENGOs if not the colonial power structure’s good cop?

After all, the ENGO has become one of industrial capitalism’s most

reliable methods of healing itself.

If having a seat at the table with industry and government is the goal,

Talk and Log will be the outcome. The trajectory of idealism to

opportunism is the fuel that keeps the beast alive. On the other hand,

if our more radical instincts are left to mature for too long without

intervention, we become impossible to co-opt and control. Don’t let the

state, police, media, or ENGOs mediate how we fight. Decentralized

direct action has and continues to be our best option.

Land Back

A movement of beautiful people all coming together in a chaotic ballet

of relearning the art of community and cohesion collectively.

Coming from all the extremes of the medicine wheel, unbalanced and

dangerously difficult for anyone not yet brave enough to navigate, the

hurtful and broken terrain to finding true reconciliation.

The settlers as we’ve been called, myself a non-assimilated nomad

bordering someplace precariously close to an ‘outlaw’ stuck between the

world of privileged ‘euro stock’ and full blooded indigenous, non the

less proud of both bloods coursing through my veins, knowing that I am a

bridge through intention and action. I love the people of this land and

this movement is bigger than this continent has ever known, in that

history is rewriting itself before our very eyes.

The people have spoken and the atrocities of church and state can no

longer be covered up. No money will ever pay for the crimes committed

and no longer will the world turn a blind and privileged eye, pretending

or excusing the aberrant behavior of the powers that be.

Fuck the state.

Fuck the police.

And especially,

Fuck your willingness to sit idly by knowing that you could have made a

difference…

— Napiquon

An Ode to River Camp

by Laurel

River Camp was nested perfectly in between the trees, river, and roads.

If I walked into the trees, I felt the coolness held deep in their

trunks and roots. Back on the road, exposed to the direct sun, I’d

overheat and have to return to the trees or take a dip in the glistening

blue of the waterfall. The intersection of roads called River Camp held

the tallest trees I’d ever seen. I felt connected to the earth in a way

I only dream about when back in the city.

I felt welcome with the trees, people took me a minute longer. I spent

the first evening anxious, unsure if I’d connect with any people. I met

a couple folks who told me to stay away from them with their glares, but

by nightfall I’d met and connected with people who welcomed me and by

the time I said goodnight and walked to my tent it felt like we had been

friends for years. By the next morning, I felt welcomed by everyone, and

sharing breakfast and words in the morning circle felt like a tradition

I had taken part in my whole Life.

For a variety of reasons, I could not go to any other camps. One reason

being my chronic illnesses. I saw people frantically coming to River

Camp from other camps or leaving River Camp in a hurry after inviting as

many people as possible to leave River Camp and join other camps. Some

came to River right after being stuck in a hard block all day, and then

left right away to go back where they were arrested from. Those people

seemed frantic and talked hurriedly on the go and always under a sense

of emergency.

I loved River Camp because it never felt like an emergency. In my

experience, there was space for me and everyone else to bring only what

they wanted to contribute and be a part of. I spent the days cooking

meals, cleaning, taking shifts at the gate, meeting people, sharing

zines, talking about beliefs and strategies and our lives, walking in

the forest. In my brief time there, I began to have dreams of building a

period pantry and a library. It was a space and way of relating to

people that I had only dreamt about doing in the city—sharing meals,

struggles, and lives in a communal and intimate way.

When I returned home, I was struck by the noise, smell of car exhaust,

and overstimulation of all the people. I’d look at the skyline and be

confused why I could see that much sky at all. The empty skyline where

trees must have once lived! Most of all, I was struck by the loss of

communal living at River Camp. I spent my dinners by myself or with a

lover or friend, but everything was separated with hard concrete lines.

The opposite of intimacy.

Even in spaces of shared struggle, there is a lack of intimacy—not that

intimacy can be forced, but we have no conditions for it to grow if it

wanted. Not a romantic intimacy, but the intimacy of care, trust, and

shared life. Further, in all spaces of struggle I’ve encountered in the

city, there is only a sense of emergency, of always giving oneself

completely to an action. No space for building the world we wish to

thrive in, cooking dinner, walking in the trees, making art,

self-regulation. No place for pleasure, joy, rest, or care, essentially.

But spaces like that, like I found briefly at River Camp, are so needed

to reduce burnout, create a sense of belonging, and make our selves and

struggles resilient. Spaces like that also provide more inclusion and

access to disabled folks or people with children, and anyone with their

own needs and reasons for not being on the so-called frontlines, where

people aren’t excluded because they can’t/don’t want to put their bodies

on the line, and everyone’s participation and emotional and intellectual

contributions can be welcomed and valued.

River Camp wasn’t this total utopia I’m dreaming about right now, but it

did show me new ways of being in a struggle that I had never experienced

before, and it put me on this path of dreaming and envisioning what I

want in my life.

Stalemate: The Agony and Ecstasy of Getting Arrested

“The isolated Pawn casts gloom across the entire chessboard” – Aron

Nimzowitsch, 1925

Amidst the asphyxiation of the world with the advent of COVID-19, the

larger and more lethal pathogens of state and industry have only

intensified their assault on our forests and rivers — the lungs that

sustain us. To survive falling margins, the death machine must all the

more rapaciously pillage the earth, laying bare the poverty and inanity

of the logic of the market. Still, there is a long and storied history

of people refusing to sit idly by as the land is sterilized into private

partitions of desolation.

Despite the myriad ways to throw a wrench into the machine, there is the

strangely pervasive tactic of symbolic arrest. What characterizes

symbolic arrest is that, quixotically, one intends to be arrested, as

opposed to the regular risk of arrest stemming from direct action.

I just finished turtling some supplies up Sasquatch trail when a new

face arrives at Camp. He approaches me introducing himself as “Fresh

Meat”, no shit. He just got here and asks where’s the best place to get

arrested as he needs to get back home by Monday. I wince at the idea but

he’s so keen I hate to burst his bubble. I’m anxious to see he doesn’t

get hurt as fresh meat does spoil quickly. I get down to the brass

tacks, “Don’t get pressured into anything if your gut tells you

otherwise. If you’re set on it, at least don’t get arrested alone cuz

the pigs will hurt you and throw the book at you. Take in the lay of the

land, you might have to bushwhack your way outta trouble soon enough.”

He smiles off my concerns politely.

Proponents of symbolic arrest make the case that the criminalizing of

conscientious protest lays bare the injustice of the carceral state for

the wider public, an exercise in raising awareness of what is at stake.

It is not so much being arrested that is the goal but what it

represents, hence “symbolic” arrest. Inexorably, the symbolic nature of

the arrests becomes an end to itself, for example celebrity activists

and politicians crossing a police cordon in a photogenic but ultimately

benign exercise.

It is a curious state of affairs. How did surrendering ourselves to our

enemies become a page in the playbook? Perhaps it is time to question

the fetishization of symbolic arrest and its repercussions.

“RBC is financing the Coastal GasLink pipeline and violating indigenous

rights on Wet’suwet’en territory. We are hoping to give a relatively

easy opportunity to people who are new to land defense to deal with

police first-hand and get arrested. Empowerment is key to this campaign.

We want anyone to feel like they have power in their actions and can

fight for a better world.” #GlueYourselfToAnRBC

Every struggle worth fighting for will eventually involve the cops.

Symbolic arrest equates fighting the cops with getting arrested by the

cops, perversely turning the self affirmation of struggle into self

abnegation. It goes against every tenet of asymmetrical conflict to

openly confront our adversaries when and where they expect us, let alone

willingly be bagged and tagged by them. The subsequent consequences of

arrest, even at its most lenient, risks further surveillance and

persecution, curtailing the possibility of future action, to say nothing

of the more immediate threat of being brutalized at the hands of the

pigs.

During my time at the blockades on Pacheedaht and Wet’suwet’en

territory, symbolic arrest was positioned as a delaying tactic. People

chained themselves into hard blocks in an attempt to delay industry by

placing their bodies in precarious situations, forcing the police to

painstakingly remove them. Yet throwing people as grist in the arrest

mill to buy time is hardly sustainable, a war of attrition that we are

sure to lose.

Calls for “bodies on the line” in service of symbolic arrest have also

been a conscious attempt by white able bodied allies to leverage their

privilege and prove their solidarity with oppressed peoples. But this

begs the question: How does getting arrested build solidarity between

folks? I would argue it weakens those potential bonds when the basis of

solidarity is mediated by the police – a veritable prisoner’s dilemma.

It becomes rather clear that the call for arrestables is tacitly, and a

lot of the time overtly, a call to sacrifice oneself. A call to

martyrdom. From what is ostensibly an act of solidarity, getting

arrested becomes a means to expiate one’s guilt/privilege.

The Zapatistas in Chiapas have a definition of solidarity that has

resonated with me: “Solidarity is not just coming here and joining our

struggle, solidarity is recognizing our common struggle everywhere.”

Struggling together is cultivating the seeds of resistance everywhere,

not ceding resistance in futile gestures. Struggling together is more

than just being a replaceable body, an arrestable. Struggling together

is taking literally the call “Who keeps us safe? We keep us safe!”

Solidarity does not mean getting arrested. Getting arrested doesn’t keep

us safe.

We make our way up to River Camp hoping to overwhelm the police access

control point at night. The pigs cry “Stop or you are under arrest!”.

Despite the pepper spray and attempts to knab us, we’ve congealed

ourselves into an unassailable phalanx. There’s an exhausted shit eating

grin on everyone’s face when we make it through the gauntlet. No one

arrested, no one sacrificed to the tender mercies of the cops.

Untitled

Lumber bodies

Lay in a soil made bed

Sacred, silent

Torn off head

Death was violent

A means to an end

Bark skin surrenders

Swallowed, hollow

A cycle

Cannot begin again

I cry for the trees

Lying in wait

Desperate screams

Echo over the lake

Wind carries their voices

Through mountains, meadows and valleys

A confused bear wanders

Through blasted alleys

When will we realize?

That we’ve become blind

Deaf to the details

And undermined

By the NDP

Ignoring desperate pleas

We can’t destroy nature

Without killing ourselves

We must wake up

The destruction cannot be undone

Once the old growth is gone,

We are left with none

Empty hearts and scattered minds

Old-growth trees help us see the divine

Let us grieve the death of our greedy selves

Let us be free from capital over lives lost.

Let us live in harmony with the mother,

Who created us all

Learn to love the forest,

Before humans fall

Watershed Moments

I suspect that for the rest of my life, the song of Swainson’s Thrush

will bring me back to the memories of waking up in my tent at HQ. I

would gauge how many more days I could stay at the blockade by seeing

how I felt upon waking up. If I wanted to spring to my feet and hit the

ground running, that was a good sign. But if I could feel the tug of the

abyss that so many of us feel waking up in this world, then maybe it was

time for me to go home, rest, and take care of myself. But this was a

good day and I’m rearing to go. I was up before the generator was fired

up and wifi turned on, well before breakfast would be served.

After my first all-nighter, a pop-up at 2000, I remember getting back to

HQ just before dark and even though I should’ve gone straight to bed, I

decided to rummage for a quick snack in the food trailer. I was too

braindead to know what to eat so I was just fumbling around with my

headlamp. Someone happened into the trailer and I still wasn’t entirely

sure how food was being distributed so I started to justify my

existence, “Oh I was just-“, but the person cut me off with, “You don’t

have to explain anything” and I almost cried.

This morning though, I knew the lay of the land better, so I grabbed

some trailer snacks, made some tea, and paced until I saw someone I

wanted to talk to. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do that day. I

knew I didn’t want to hang around HQ. The physical labor spent there was

always better spent elsewhere, and it was just too many unsettled vibes

and people complaining about being stuck doing jobs they didn’t want to

do. So I suggested we do a lap of the camps. Once we finished our 10

minutes on the wifi to get caught up, we waited around by the kitchen

for the next vehicle heading up to River, which never took long. We’d

grabbed some stuff at HQ that we knew was needed further up the

mountain, and then checked in again about supplies at River. We weren’t

going with the usual rhythm of supply runs, but it also never hurts to

be carrying a lot of extra chocolate, amirite?

I still tear up every few days since my time at the blockade began. In

the beginning it was always tears of joy. It’s not that I ever believed

we would stop much old growth logging, but to think there was even

chance of that was a novelty worth savoring. To be able to squint and

pretend to have a sense of purpose greater than myself would just bring

these waves of emotion welling up. The first time I hiked alone between

Ridge and Heli, through a watershed that was being actively fought for,

was a powerful experience that easily opened my inner watershed. In this

moment of history, the sense that I could have an impact was

overwhelmingly powerful, especially to be perhaps the only person in the

Fairy Creek watershed for that hour.

There was something about using all my skills, fitness, and experience

in the outdoors that I had accumulated for more personal reasons now

being of such use in such a communal endeavour, and with complete

strangers. Strangers that were happy to see me because even if we hadn’t

met, I was assumed to be on side, of value, contributing, witnessing, or

at least delivering chocolate. That feeling of encountering people in a

context where I actually cared what everyone’s story was and they mine.

Feeling the horizon of possibility shifting, imagination running wild.

How often do I get to experience tears of gratitude back in the

hellscape that is ‘the real world’?

Folks had a variety of attitudes towards River, but to me it simply

depended what incarnation of the camp you’d experienced and more

importantly your mood. I saw it as a supply hub, a fork-in-the-road

stopover, and a place where people could hold space and others could

fend off burnout without having to go home. Some people lived an hour or

two away, but not everyone had the luxury of going home for a shower, a

load of laundry and a good night sleep. I always admired that River

seemed to be the only camp still holding a circle each day and wished

there was less of a sense of urgency (albeit self-imposed, always

self-imposed) so that I could figure out a way to get in on the

check-ins, etc. I also found it inconvenient to arrive in the middle of

circle and I imagine I wasn’t alone in that, considering how much of a

transient place River often functioned as. But we got to check in on a

few folks and get more updates before deciding to do our lap clockwise,

since there was probably water that needed hiking to Ridge.

Up to Heli we went on the next ride. Heli now had running water, which

was pretty cool. The camp had started when someone happened to be

present in the cutblock when a helicopter tried to land. They managed to

fend it off singlehanded, but the need for continued presence there

became broadly acknowledged. This morning, most people had already

started working on various hard block projects, so we didn’t stay long.

We filled up our water at the bathtub pool and carried on up. Just as we

entered the forest, the helicopter did a few fly by’s but thankfully

didn’t stick around. Despite being at the blockade for a month, you

still hadn’t done this trail yet, hadn’t even been fully inside the

Fairy Creek watershed. I looked forward to seeing how it would affect

you.

The trail’s condition had improved. A certain someone had been doing

some proper trailbuilding on their own and some sections now had steps

cut out of fallen trees. The thing I liked about this trail was that you

could never really get a full view down the valley. There was always

something left to the imagination. The water source had less flow each

time I did this trail, but the hose still allowed for water jugs to be

filled easily enough. I decided to carry one of those 20L water jugs,

since my legs were feeling good, but my pack definitely felt different

than it did with a bag of concrete in it. Lighter but harder to manage,

always having to fight the water’s momentum. I got to show you the big

tree by Ridge, you were pretty excited. It was no behemoth, but

impressive nonetheless. I recalled to you a tree I’d read about in the

Capilano Valley in 1886 that was measured at 20 feet across right before

they cut it down. I made sure to pace that out in front of you just to

see the expression on your face.

Eventually the tears would come on for all sorts of reasons, but it was

always something I chose to celebrate. Being open to the world and the

possibilities and the intensity and the weight of it all. Choosing to be

more than just a goddamn spectator in the industrial juggernaut that is

civilization, and instead part of a war launched against it. Allowing

myself to drop the cynicism for a period of time, giving in to imagining

and visualizing a future very different than what I usually reconcile

myself to. Allowing myself to temporarily let the world in and settling

into a sort of vulnerability that I would normally find far too risky in

less tumultuous times. There were tears of sadness and tears of empathy,

the latter normally strictly rationed for the sake of self-protection.

Ridge was happy to see us. They always appreciated visitors and supplies

since they were the camp least traveled to. We had a few nice

conversations while we took a break, and then carry on, managing to beat

the heat of the day so far. Ridge was the only camp that I got to visit

where you weren’t on a logging road and that offered a certain mental

buffer, both visually from helicopters but in other less obvious ways

too.

Once on the road again, the day was clear enough to see the mountains

around Port Alberni to the north and Cape Flattery to the south. Seeing

such far away points is always something that’s helped me feel grounded

in life, though the irony of such views being provided by a clearcut

weren’t lost on us. We didn’t stop long at Cookie, and stopped only to

say a quick hello with the person on watch at Owl. Everyone graciously

received the chocolate, of course. There’d been more art popping up on

this stretch of road and the Elk was strange and haunting to behold.

We got a lot of uninterrupted one-on-one time on this walk, a luxury at

the blockade for me. We discuss how much of a mixed bag the social media

updates usually are. Catching up on the news is good, but how they frame

the police, the media, and politicians is so banal and disempowering. We

discuss our own psychological entry points to the blockade, our

backgrounds, perspectives. We talk about plants, wilderness. How it’s

great to spend so much time outside this summer, even if it’s mostly on

logging roads. I don’t ask what you do for work because I honestly don’t

care to know.

We both recognize that it’s the unity that heightened conflict provides

that allows such different people to get along so well for the most

part. There seems to be a need for all types of people and that’s a

lesson I’d been learning this summer. Finding out what it is you want to

do at the blockade is such a personal decision, f you can withstand the

wafts of guilt and desperation that come from folks. Most are trying

their best to respect everyone’s personal decisions though and that

feels good. We talk about consent for a while. How much consent is

possible in such a dynamic situation? Is there room for pushing people

to challenge their comfort zones when you don’t really know them? Are we

each doing enough to make sure people know what they’re getting into

when they go to the frontlines? What does it even meant to ‘know what

you’re getting into’, given that any predictability we’ve discovered at

the blockade is of course subject to change, like everything else.

The last time I felt this way was 10 years ago when I got swept up in

the Occupy movement. I would cry just as often back then and it felt so

good, but eventually it fell apart, normalcy was re-established, and I

allowed myself to become hardened again. Similarities with Occupy

abound, leaving me to believe that there is really something truly

exceptional and desireable about existing in a space that has been

carved out to challenge normalcy itself. Living in contested space,

relating to people in such different ways than the status quo allows.

Exploring a sense of agency and empowerment absolutely absent from daily

life. The Choose Your Own Adventure aspect of a decentralized movement

is a lot of fun, there I said it. The sense of immersion living without

distractions and with such unwavering focus. The joy of waking up each

day, checking in with my desires, and then following them to their

natural conclusions. And in the woods this time instead of the fucking

city!

Back during Occupy, I actually genuinely believed a revolution had

begun, that’s how novel (read: naive) it was for me at the time. The

entire experience taught me how many pockets of resistance and autonomy

must have existed throughout history, and to realize the value of these

temporary autonomous zones. It might feel like the whole world is

watching, but they really aren’t. That something forming such a break

with consensus reality can happen and then be absorbed back into the

fold of society unacknowledged is heartbreaking.

But even with tempered expectations, the joy and openness I experienced

this time around, even knowing we probably wouldn’t win, the

all-consuming passion would flow just as freely. I just know now to soak

it up while it lasts and not count on some sort of externally validated

victory.

You never really knew what you’d be walking into at Screech, but we

approached from the friendly side and had our radios turned on just in

case. Turns out no greens were on the Mario Trail towards Hawk and the

blues were all down at the frontline. It was great to arrive early

enough that we didn’t have to rush. Even though we still had a ways to

go before getting back to our tents later that night, we wanted to enjoy

our time at Screech. I usually left wanting more, but in hindsight, that

was probably the best way to dose the magic of it.

So we dropped off some spices that Ridge had sent down, as well as some

extra radios. I audited the battery stash with a battery tester to save

the ones that were still fine and pack out the rest with us when we

left. You wanted to chill out by the kitchen, so I wandered down the

road by myself past all the hardblocks. The frontline was far enough

away to provide a nice buffer from Screech, but closer than it had been

on my last visit. I stopped at each hardblock to offer chocolate and see

if anyone had any special requests I could pass onto the people helping

source supplies on the outside. Lots of chats and catching up with

people along the way. The conversations were never too broad reaching

though. Being near the frontline puts certain blinders on you, and the

sleep deprivation doesn’t help either. But you also get to see people

evolve and change. Some people I’d see before they ever got to Screech.

Seeing them after they’d been there a few days was always inspiring and

hearing how their worldview had been blown wide open was always worth

the time it took. Turns out getting the cops to retreat once in a while

really does wonders for how we view the horizons of possibility.

One of the hard parts for me these days being back home is running into

people I know. I don’t always mention that I was at Fairy Creek but when

I did, their first question is usually to ask if ‘the protests’ actually

stopped any logging, and that was if they’d even heard of the blockade

at all. Not, “Oh wow, tell me about what it’s like to live in a sci-fi

universe!”. Results-oriented. Did we stop logging? Yeah, at times I

guess, for what it’s worth.

I remember after Occupy, random people would offer the peanutgallery

opinion that what we the movement really lacked was a good leader.

Nevermind that Occupy was a explicitly anarchistic, leaderless,

decentralized movement where transparency, inclusivity and horizontal

organizing were explicitly front and center. The juxtaposition can be

shattering at times .

All the catching up on my way down to the frontline and back up took

time. I didn’t stay long at the front, because I just couldn’t relax

around the cops, though I was grateful that the folks there were doing

their best to. We were starting to run a little behind on time, so it

was time to say some goodbyes, collecting messages that people wanted

passed on. We packed some of screech’s garbage and recycling into our

packs and hit the trail. On the hike, we talked about other direct

action camps that had happened in other places and other times,

wondering how much of the magic that was present at Fairy Creek was also

present at the smaller, shorter lived blockades.

Mario trail had some new ropes installed, that was nice. No surprises at

Hawk and the welcome mats still stood, Hawk having had a similar origin

story to Heli. Seeing all the camps in one day always helped my

perspective. Something about getting the endorphins, checking in with

everyone along the way, getting caught up on news, and seeing how

differently each camp felt to be present at. I wanted to soak up this

wild, temporary, sci-fi experience as much as possible. It’s a lot to

take in. Inevitably, you’d see often see someone having some sort of

breakdown: grief, anxiety, or burnout. Then there was the genius

guerilla artistry and camaraderie of build crew, playing Home Alone in

the woods, engulfed in their own tactical universe. The timelines had

been permanently altered here at Fairy Creek. We were vast and contained

multitudes. Anything was possible. The blockade would end eventually but

we’ll carry these moments forever, right? Or will we need to remind each

other? Will the transformation we’ve all been part of feel different

depending on the outcome? How long before the legacy of all this can

even be known? Would we become bitter? What secrets have yet to be told?

After the pop-up at 2000 that stopped logging for a few days, I did some

recon and was consolidated some stashes while logging resumed higher up

in the valley. I was alone again and the sound of the giant trees

falling kilometres away was out of all proportion. When I heard the

first tree hit the ground, the noise was so crisp and loud that I

thought someone had dropped the tailgate open on a truck nearby that I

hadn’t noticed, so I reflexively hid in the bushes for a bit, not

realizing what I was hearing. It took me a few minutes to realize what

was happening.

The trees fell, but for a few days we got to imagine what it was like to

have saved them. And that experience is worth a lot. Years compressed

into days. We‘ll all be processing and unpacking these experiences for

years. But I know where I was when the giants fell. And I wouldn’t trade

those tears for anything.

Hedging out bets, we started walking down the road towards River,

enjoying the last light of the day. The 7pm ride hadn’t materialized (it

often didn’t), but someone would be along eventually. After a short

while, we could hear the evening’s convoys coming up the road. People

were always so excited on that drive up. Hanging off every corner of a

vehicle, just so stoked to be heading into the unknown. On the driver’s

way back, we caught a ride down.

It was dark when we got to River, but you hadn’t swam in Renfrew Creek

yet and I convinced a driver to wait for us before driving down to HQ.

The dip was great, a form of daily self-care. People always went naked,

there never seemed a second thought. There was always this moment after

a chilly dip where you could just sit there, breathe deep, and begin to

process a fraction of what was unfolding around you. A great day and

lots of ground covered, literally and metaphorically. You were great

company. But I still don’t even know your name.

Dear Lovers

I don’t know if it was your unwashed hair or the fact that you hadn’t

changed your underwear in over a week. But somewhere, in between the

night raids, build crew bashes, and tea as the sun rose, I fell in love.

My entire heart pulsed for all of your edges, even the rough ones. Some

of my lovers didn’t communicate well, and after 48 hours of little to no

sleep, they would get snappy with people while others would simply cry.

I still love you. Even in your shadow, the sun still kisses you because

we are only human. Each of us has many weaknesses that are tethered to a

strength. I guess we all have the forest to thank for weaving us

together into the tapestry that we have become. May we continue to fall

in love with strangers, especially those that engage in civil

disobedience, for grandmother and grandfather trees.

Ode to Screech

I was there when you were just a few tents and a block or two

But soon you became home to much more than a few

I only once heard the owl to which you were named

It was ever-so magical, wild and untamed

You were the heart of the movement in so many ways

Taking in the ones who might have gone astray

Supporting multiple pushes down passed Waterfall

And somehow the frontline never got by you at all

Even when your creek was no more than a drip

You still let us come down to drink, bathe and dip

I saw when the green guys came to take you down

You persisted, came back and rose from the ground

Oh Screech, I love you more than you will ever know

You brought me my family whom I will never let go.

Statistical Data

Most concrete carried in one backpack: 2.5 bags (140lbs total)

Longest time spent in a trench hard block: 55hrs

Longest time spent in a continuous tree sit: 9 days?

Money RCMP claim to have spent on enforcement as of Nov 2021: $8.9

million

Money paid to PFN band council from Teal Jones for revenue sharing:

$235,000

Potential profit claimed lost by Teal Jones due to blockades: Millions

Average annual precipitation for Port Renfrew: 3670mm

Typical rainfall for Port Renfrew in November: 580mm

Actual November 2021 rainfall: 1189mm

Average annual rainfall for Victoria, BC: 880mm

Fastest Known Times

Heli to Ridge — 50min

Mario Trail — Uphill, 20min30sec

Marmot Trail — Uphill, road to road, approx 22min

Blue Egg Trail — From 2000/2100 junction to Pacific Marine, 1hr22m

Action Report and Analysis

Disclaimer: Included here are a few recent actions that have not been

reported widely. They are included simply to give a broader context. All

details given here were found online. The actions mentioned here are all

illegal and therefore could never be condoned.

On November 11 a feller buncher (logging machine) was found to have been

burnt overnight and completely destroyed, near the First Nation

community of Ditidaht. The value of the machine is reported as being

$500,000. Heavy rainfall had occurred overnight. Details of the exact

location and the logging companies involved has not been made public.

The RCMP did not put out a news release until Nov 23, which suggests

they only did so as a last resort in trying to round up any information.

Source: Lake Cowichan Gazette

There has long been suspicion that industry and police will often try to

keep successful industrial sabotage actions from being reported in the

media, so as not to encourage ‘copycat’ actions. Whether or not the

media is also complicit in this is debated.

Around December 8, BC Forests Minister Katrine Conroy was knocked to the

ground while walking home from the legislature. No further detail were

given. It is assumed that her assailant considered her to be worth more

not standing. Source: Vancouver Sun

The Sea to Sky Gondola was a controversial development for multiple

reasons, one of which was the fact that a provincial park (Stawamus

Chief Provincial Park near Squamish) was made smaller in order to

accommodate the privately-operated resort. In 2019, somebody climbed the

tower in the middle of the night, and cut the main gondola cable,

causing millions of dollars in damage, resulting in the resort being

shut down for an entire year. In 2020, a few months after it re-opened,

somebody again climbed a tower at night and cut the cable, again causing

millions of dollars worth of damage, shutting down the resort, and

raising their insurance costs considerably. The resort reopened again in

2021, leading many people to ask what the sabotage really accomplished.

Source: Squamish Chief

Nobody knows what the motives were for the sabotage against the gondola,

but it could be argued that the motivation is beside the point. It can

safely be assumed that any resort developers in the province will take

notice, as will their potential investors. After all, cutting a gondola

cable twice makes for a fairly comprehensive solo divestment campaign,

does it not? ‘Garibaldi at Squamish’ is a similarly controversial

proposed resort (which will also likely try to expand into a park, this

time Garibaldi Provincial Park) and it’s safe to assume they understand

better than most the long term deterrent of such actions.

Legal Update of Arrests and Charges as of Mid-December 2021

The following numbers are based on rough estimates only and the legal

interpretations here should be taken with a grain of salt as this has

not been reviewed by a lawyer.

Total arrests are approaching 1200. Even in the numbers, there is much

to dispute. The majority of arrests were of the ‘catch and release’

variety. Despite never charging the majority of people arrested, the

RCMP breakdown of arrests is 919 arrests for breaching the injunction

(contempt of court) and 269 for criminal offenses. Curious that they

don’t just say 800 bullshit arrests, but maybe they prefer not to make

that an official category. That is to say, roughly 800 of those arrests

either were not for any charges or the charges were later dropped

(unfortunately the numbers weren’t available to distinguish between the

two categories).

Release conditions for those charged with contempt have all been

geographical restrictions based on the injunction area. In the brief

period of time between injunction in late September/early October,

release conditions were even more narrowly defined geographically, since

there was no injunction zone at the time. If any criminal charges

resulted in different release conditions, it has not been brought to the

attention of the Rainforest Flying Squad Legal Support team.

The number of arrests is more than the number of individuals arrested.

Some were arrested two, three, or more times. The total number of

different people arrested is around 450. So far 350 charges have been

approved. Of all the charges dropped, way more criminal charges have

been dropped than the civil charges (contempt). This partially reflects

the fact that the burden of proof is higher for criminal charges than

civil charges. Of the charges dropped, many were because the arrests

were outside of the injunction zone, or included ‘RCMP abuse’. Less

charges have been dropped so far than hoped.

Of the 269 arrests for criminal charges, probably less than 20 seem to

be proceeding to court, which is great news. However, some of those that

were caught and released (but whose information was taken, which wasn’t

always the case) were surprised to later find out through the grapevine

that they had court appearances scheduled for contempt charges, even

though the cops had told them they wouldn’t be charged. Due to the less

transparent nature of criminal charges, no information was available

about whether anyone caught and released was later charged with a

criminal offense.

Most people arrested up to and through October 2021 have had their first

appearance/preliminary hearing. These hearings have generally had

anywhere from 10 to 200 defendants at once. The first trials are set for

late January 2022 and some are already being scheduled into February

2023. If people plead guilty any time before their trial, they instead

get a sentencing hearing in lieu of a trial (which only lasts a few

hours). Those hearings are mostly being scheduled in April 2022. In a

few cases where the defendants were very motivated to expedite the

process, they have plead guilty and pushed for sentencing hearings as

soon as possible.

“It depends on a person’s ability to say nevertheless,

to do one small thing that seeks beyond them,

and for a moment, break the grip of time.”

— Richard Powers, The Overstory

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Rest in Power, Fungus

Water Falls and We Shall Rise