TMX can bring down our tree houses, but not our mission

I’ve been sitting in the trees protesting the Trans Mountain Pipeline (TMX) expansion for months. While my friends and I were literally defending the fort, conservationists were doing critical work on the ground.

In April 2021, a group of bird watchers alerted federal wildlife officials to the presence of hummingbirds in the area where we were planting trees, and in accordance with the Migratory Bird Act, construction of the pipeline was suspended. detained until August 21.

This victory began a brief era of peace. Security left the area. The forest was in full bloom. I remember sitting in Hummingbird watching another tree caretaker, Dr. Tim Takaro, lie on the bright green moss below, hands behind his head, grinning from ear to ear. An indigenous man within the Stop TMX community told me that hummingbirds could fly back and forth, bringing messages from the spirit world. This victory seemed like a fortuitous omen.

Emily Kelsall walking out on the deck of the Bluejay. Photo courtesy of Emily Kelsall

Not long after the victory, I left for three months as a volunteer in northern British Columbia with the Wet’suwet’en Nation. On my return, I was afraid to find that the trees had disappeared, but to my relief, I discovered that our occupation was still there. Also, Timothée Govare, my tree-climbing mentor, was true to his word: he had built a second treehouse, Bluejay, in a cottonwood tree directly across from Hummingbird. A long and very precarious rope bridge connected the two.

But TMX had expanded at the same rate. From the top of Hummingbird, bald patches were visible where pipeline construction was proceeding.

Among all the changes I discovered on my return, the greatest was in me. My early relationship with trees transformed me into a competent, confident and positive person. But the heat dome and subsequent weather anxiety had made me fearful once again.

The last time I visited the tree, giant spotlights were erected at its base. The security guards didn’t stop us from going up, but it was clear they were getting closer.

Timothée Govare was true to his word. He built a second tree house, Bluejay, in a cottonwood tree directly across from Hummingbird. Photo courtesy of Emily Kelsall

One day, Timothée crouched over a precarious line between two trees in direct challenge to an oncoming tree cutter. The tree cutters could not go any further without risking injury. They were forced to withdraw.

Opinion: The last time I visited the tree, giant spotlights were erected at its base. Security guards didn’t stop us from ascending, but it was clear they were getting closer, writes Emily Kelsall. #TMX #Treesitters

Just a few days later, Timothée accidentally dropped a branch while streaming through the trees. The limb fell and injured a TMX worker. Timothée was forced to step down or face assault charges. When the police cleared out the tree keepers, the machines went into gear.

For a year, the treehouses stood as a beacon of resistance to the expansion of the TMX pipeline. The cruelty with which we were overpowered quickly left the team and I devastated. If all this work could be erased with a handful of executive orders and a dozen men, our efforts would have to be doubled and our numbers would have to triple.

My friends and I deal with the loss of trees in our own way. Timothée and our mutual friend and tree climber, Amanda Hehner, went to the country for a while. They invited me to go, but I refused. I was red hot with anxiety and didn’t want to be reminded of trees at all.

For weeks our group scattered. And then, like hummingbirds returning after migration, we all went back to work.

The future

On February 16, I went to the British Columbia Supreme Court to witness the sentencing of Zain Haq, 21, and William Winder, 69, for clogging the TMX pipeline.

William had secured himself to a tree at the Trans Mountain job site with a bicycle U-lock, delaying work for hours. Zain had sat on the TMX expressway and refused to move. Even without being secured in a “hard lock,” the kind that needs special equipment to remove, TMX had to stop working while Zain was being arrested. Both Zain and William had been called to action by the urgency of the climate crisis.

In her sentencing, Judge Shelley C. Fitzpatrick said the defendants expressed “passionate views about the environment.” She then proceeded to sentence William to 21 days in jail and Zain to 14.

A few months later, Dr. Takaro was sentenced to 30 days in jail for his protests against the pipeline.

When I asked Timothée what gives him hope, there was a pause before he answered. “It’s hard because it’s pretty dark, you know? I really feel like we are heading towards massive catastrophes… even if we take a lot of measures,” he said.

“But I’m not going down without a fight. Action gives me hope. You really feel hopeless when you do nothing. As soon as you do something… that gives you hope. Very often, when you try something, it has more impact than you think… I thought they would get us out (of the trees) in three days… We were there for almost a year.”

Emily Kelsall has met activists who are teenagers and others who are in their 70s. There is no age limit to participate. Photo courtesy of Emily Kelsall

I have no doubt that activists fighting for justice have a stronger spirit than corporations selling pipelines. But witnessing the tree house fall shed light on the smallness of our operation. We were a dozen or so activists maintaining a treeit in our spare time. TMX is a multi-million dollar corporation backed by the Canadian government. The people who cut down our trees and replaced them with steel pipes were paid a salary. They had pension plans and an established chain of command.

Challenging the status quo required massive sacrifice. It meant that we as activists had to put our lives on hold and dedicate our time to something bigger than ourselves. Zoom meetings once a week weren’t going to cut it. The occasional protest or publicity stunt was all too quickly forgotten. Unless we can rise up and organize ourselves to a level that matches the status quo’s effortless progression, corporate hegemony will continue to advance, like a headless chicken.

There are as many excuses for inaction as there are parts per million of carbon in the atmosphere.

“The government is taking care of that.” (They are not.)

“It’s too late to do anything anyway.” (It is not.) And even if it were, shrugging our shoulders and submitting would be missing the point: expanding fossil fuels during a climate crisis is wrong. Ignoring indigenous dissidence is wrong. Prioritizing profit over life on Earth is wrong. No matter how dire or bleak reality is, if you need a reason to fight, fighting for what’s right will always be reason enough.

Looking up at the trees with the forest in full bloom. Photo courtesy of Emily Kelsall

“I am too old to make a difference. It’s up to you young people,” is something I’ve often heard. But I have met activists who are teenagers and others who are 70 years old. There is no age limit to participate.

The extent to which we fight will define the next century. There are countless levels of participation and countless ways to participate. The easiest way is to make a monetary donation to an indigenous-led group on the front line. the tiny house warriors is a good place to start.

If you would like to actively participate as a volunteer, you can contact Protect the Planet and Stop TMX here. Bird watchers and biologists have also had great success slowing down the pipeline. More recently, a woodpecker stopped construction.

If you’re a young person or you like the silly and the funny, check out a group I started: tyrannosaurus rex vs tmx.

What is critical is to understand that this fight is not just about checks and balances. Money in and carbon out. Timeframes and data trends. It’s about ethics. It is about what is objectively, scientifically, and morally correct.

The expansion of the Trans Mountain pipeline must end. The expansion of fossil fuels must end. No matter who you are, no matter your job, no matter your politics, no matter your ability, this is a fight that demands your participation.

Emily Kelsall is a writer and activist from the Squamish Territory.

Leave a Comment