Hailing from BC, Wade Davis has worked as a park ranger, logger and big game hunting guide. He
holds degrees in anthropology and biology, and received his Ph.D. in ethnobotany, all from Harvard
University.
He spent over three years in the Amazon and Andes, living among 15 indigenous groups. His later
work took him to Haiti, East Africa, Tibet, Polynesia, Mali, Equatorial West Africa, New Guinea,
Vanuatu, and the high Arctic of Nunavut and Greenland.
Author of ten books, including The Serpent and the Rainbow, he is the recipient of numerous awards
including being made an Honourary Member of the Explorers Club in 2004, one of 20 so named in the
Club's 100-year history.
Paradise Lost?
A message from Dr. Wade Davis
Mount Kailas in Tibet is a mountain so sacred .to Buddhists and Hindus that no one is allowed to walk upon its slopes, let alone climb to its summit. From the flats at the base of the peak are born three of the greatest rivers of Asia, the Indus, Ganges and Brahmaputra, vital arteries that bring life to more than a billion people downstream. The thought of violating the sacred headwaters of these rivers with industrial development is simply inconceivable. It would represent for the people of India, Nepal and Tibet an act of desecration beyond anything they could imagine. Anyone who would dare even to propose such a deed would face the most severe of all possible sanctions, in both this world and the next.
As a Canadian I am by no means opposed to any sector of our economy. But I must confess that it leaves me astonished that we as a nation have so little reverence for our land and our rivers that we could even consider allowing the exploration and extraction of resources such as coalbed methane gas and anthracite coal from the very meadows and mountains that give birth to the salmon rivers that are the historical lifelines of some of the greatest cultural traditions ever brought into being by the human imagination. But this is precisely what is being proposed today for the headwaters of the Stikine, Nass, Skeena and Taku, the rivers of origin of a host of First Nations — Tahltan, Nisga'a, Gitxsan, Wet'suwet'en, Tsimshian, Carrier Sekani, and Tlingit.
Hikers enjoy a peaceful moment in the Taku Watershed. Photo by David MacKinnon.
Taku wolves in winter. Photo by David MacKinnon.
Think for a moment about the assumptions that rationalize such industrial initiatives in both Canada and the United States. We accept it as normal that people who have never been on the land, who have no stories, who have experienced neither pain nor joy in these valleys, who have never felt the winds of winter or the promise of spring, may legally secure the right to come in and by the very nature of their enterprises leave in their wake a cultural and physical landscape utterly transformed and desecrated. What's more, in granting mining concessions, often for trivial sums to speculators from distant cities, companies cobbled together with less history than my dog, the governments place no cultural or market value on the land itself The cost of destroying a natural asset, or its inherent worth if left intact, has no place in the economic calculations that support the industrialization of the wild. No company has to compensate the public for what it does to the commons, the forests, mountains and rivers, which by definition belong to everyone. It merely requires permission from a government to proceed. This is very odd, if you think about it, and surely reflects a mindset that ought no longer to have a place in a world in which wild lands are becoming increasingly rare and valuable, even as we strive as a species to live in a sustainable manner on a planet we have come to recognize as being resilient but not inviolable.
I first came to the Stikine in 1978 to work in the Spatsizi as a park ranger, and since then have returned virtually every summer. I have also come to know the Taku watershed, having paddled the river from source to mouth, and explored several of its tributaries. I find this region to be not only a sanctuary, but one of the most beautiful and wild places remaining on the entire planet.
We need to be clear in acknowledging that the industrial initiatives proposed for these watersheds will, if implemented, permanently compromise the wild character and spirit that makes this region unique in the world. This is not to suggest that none of these projects ought to be embraced, but rather to emphasize what is at stake. We are not talking about multiple use economic activity. We are contemplating the consequences of permanently transforming the Taku, the upper Stikine, and the headwaters of some of British Columbia's greatest rivers. This is a decision not to be taken lightly. It is indeed one of such national significance that all Canadians deserve to have a say in the process. The fate of this land transcends the interests of local residents, the provincial authorities, the speculative desires of a mining company or even the leadership of any one First Nation. These rivers and valleys are the embodiment and symbols of our collective geography of hope.
How we choose to proceed, the decisions that we make today, will define our legacy even as they determine the character and nature of the world we will bequeath to our children. Surely this alone should give pause and encourage us to move forward with utmost care in these vital deliberations.
