The food, water and energy nexus is central to First Nation, Inuit and Métis climate leadership

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Food sovereignty is at the heart of First Nation, Inuit and Métis cultures. The nexus of food, water and energy sovereignty is a key priority for First Nations, Inuit and Métis. In each context, reasserting authority and decision-making is enabling a redistribution of power towards First Nations, Inuit and Métis. The revitalization of meaningful Indigenous economies based on relationships with the Land, Water and Ice are central to this redistribution and to Indigenous-led climate action.

Food is central to our ways of life. Our traditional foods have sustained us for millennia, not only through nourishment, but also by sustaining our culture, language, values and knowledge through the practices of harvesting, preparing and sharing food.

We have the right to food sovereignty and to access the foods we choose. Due to colonialism, our communities face food insecurity rates higher than other populations in our remote communities and in urban areas. We deserve equity and access to adequate, affordable and healthy foods.

Water and energy are key priorities for our communities. We need access to and protection of healthy water in both built and natural environments, for ourselves and for our more-than-human relations. We need innovation, localization and security in energy sources, which benefit our communities and create meaningful economies.

The impacts of climate change bring new, compounding and serious challenges to our food, water and energy security. In response, we are reasserting our authority and decision-making to restore our systems of food, water and energy. Revitalizing our economies—grounded in our relationships with the Land, Water, Ice and all beings—is crucial to this process, as well as to broader efforts to transition to a low-carbon future.

8.1

Introduction

Despite developing highly complex food systems since time immemorial, colonization has significantly impacted the ability of First Nations, Inuit and Métis to access traditional foods (Willows et al., 2022; Robin et al., 2021; Lemke and Delormier, 2017; Kulchyski and Tester, 2007). Control of food, food sharing, harvesting, distribution and production by the federal government through various colonial, racist and detrimental laws and policies has oppressed Indigenous Peoples, leading to widespread food insecurity across First Nations, Inuit and Métis communities (First Nations Food Nutrition and Environment Study, 2021; Gombay, 2005). Considering these challenges, First Nations, Inuit and Métis are resisting these systems of oppression by exercising autonomy over our Lands, Waters and traditional foods, and advancing Indigenous food sovereignty (Snook, 2021; Settee and Shukla, 2020; ITK, 2019a; ICC, n.d.).

Food serves as a lens for understanding and addressing climate change-related issues in our communities (Caughey et al., 2022). Climate change significantly impacts Indigenous food systems and food security, for example, through changing weather conditions and increasing costs associated with harvesting and accessing food, as well as affecting water systems (Lewis and Peters, 2017).

The nexus of food, water and energy sovereignty is a key priority for First Nations, Inuit and Métis (Huntington et al., 2021b). In each context, reasserting authority and decision-making powers has enabled a redistribution of power towards First Nations, Inuit and Métis governments and citizens. This movement towards self-determination and sovereignty is central to addressing the structural legacy of colonization by re-localizing control over food, water and energy systems (Elliott et al., 2022; Huntington et al, 2021b).

While climate change significantly impacts both Indigenous and non-Indigenous economic systems, Indigenous Peoples’ perspectives on the economy offer valuable insights. Shifting organizing principles from scarcity to abundance opens the possibility of reframing global discussions on “just transitions” from a narrative of “winners and losers” to one of cooperation and reciprocity, grounded in a responsibility to care for the Land in its entirety.

Monochromatic blue dome iceberg. Light grey ripples extend from the waterline, giving way to a bummock larger than the hummock.

8.2

Food sovereignty, security, safety and management

First Nations, Inuit and Métis have developed highly complex food systems since time immemorial. Sophisticated, sustainable and regenerative food production was evident from coast to coast to coast, supporting our existence “…for millennia on healthy diets of locally produced and gathered foods, which closely linked local communities with their diverse environments” (Beck, 2017, p. 1). In the Human Rights Watch report on food insecurity in First Nations (2020), Gitanyow Hereditary Chief Malii described how his grandfather referred to the animals and plants in their traditional diet as “dinner table” in his language. He recalled, “[My grandfather] described the moose, berries and fish like that. He also referred to it as [a] bank.” Indigenous Peoples characterize a holistic and relational approach to food as “…rooted in land and water-based practices for food and lifeways that mark interdependent relations between humans, and between human and natural ecologies” (Pictou, 2018, p. 14).

These food ecosystems drastically changed with European contact (Pictou, 2017). Control of food sharing, harvesting, distribution and production were wielded as weapons, reinforcing colonial doctrines of violence, assimilation and dispossession (Nightingale and Richmond, 2022; Richmond et al., 2021). For instance, Daschuk (2014) describes how famine was deliberately used as a policy weapon by the Canadian government during Prairie expansion to coerce “uncooperative Indians” onto reserves and remove them from Lands coveted by white settlers. Other impacts have manifested in many ways, such as high rates of water- and food-borne disease (Thivierge et al., 2016; Harper et al., 2015a; Harper et al., 2015b; Goldfarb et al., 2013), lack of affordable and accessible healthy food sources (Beaumier et al., 2015; Council of Canadian Academics, 2014), contamination of Land and Water (Traditional Ecological Knowledge Elders Group, n.d.) and a decline in the percentage of food harvested from traditional sources due to decreased access to Land, loss of harvesting skills, increasing costs, restrictions on hunting and increased access to store-bought foods (National Collaboration Centre for Aboriginal Health, 2013). The Traditional Ecological Knowledge Elders Group expressed concerns about the herbicide glyphosate, stating, “We are dependent socially, economically, spiritually and culturally on the health of the forest, including the wildlife, plants, water and soil. In many areas, we cannot trust that the medicines and foods we harvest are clean and uncontaminated. The aerial spraying of glyphosate violates our treaty rights to the water and to hunt, fish, and gather berries and plant medicines in our traditional territories” (Traditional Ecological Knowledge Elders Group, n.d.).

Data shows that 48% of First Nations households have difficulty putting enough food on the table (Chan et al., 2021) and Inuit are the most food insecure Indigenous Peoples in the developed world (ITK, 2019a; Rosol et al., 2011). For Métis, there is a lack of research on climate-related food insecurity impacts, but concerns have been raised about a shortened goose hunt, changes in the movement and location of fish and their habitat, changes to the health, behaviour and distribution of caribou and moose, changes in the availability and quality of certain types of berries and the impacts of warmer weather on food preservation methods (Métis Nation British Columbia, 2022; North Slave Métis Alliance community members et al., 2017; Guyot et al., 2006). From this perspective, the revitalization of Indigenous food systems is central to the climate crisis and “…an important part of our recovery from the impacts of colonization” (Simpson, 2011, p. 131).

Climate change has significant and growing impacts on Indigenous food systems and food availability. The unpredictability of weather and environmental conditions related to climate change and the increasing costs of harvesting (e.g., extra food, gas, supplies, multiple trips) threaten the ability of First Nations, Inuit and Métis to travel on the Land, Water and Ice to access traditional foods (King and Furgal, 2014). Furthermore, later freeze-up and earlier thaw due to warming temperatures shorten the winter road season, requiring alternate means of getting food to remote communities and adding to the already high costs of imported foods in northern and remote areas. Livelihoods that depend on harvesting fish, plants and wildlife are anticipated to be impacted by climate change (see Case Story 9; ICC Alaska, 2020; Jantarasami et al., 2018; Parlee et al., 2014; Dittmer, 2013); as are those in agriculture (Settee, 2020; Shinbrot et al., 2019; Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe, 2013), transportation (Hori et al., 2018a; 2018b) and tourism and recreation (ICC, 2008).

Combined, these factors have led to decreased consumption of healthy and culturally preferred local foods and increased reliance on retail food (Dodd et al., 2018a, 2018b; Medeiros et al., 2017; Berner et al., 2016; Loring and Gerlach, 2015). This exacerbates already high rates of chronic diseases prevalent among First Nations, Inuit and Métis, including obesity, diabetes and cardiovascular diseases (Kolahdooz et al., 2015; Reading, 2015). First Nations, Inuit and Métis are responding to this reality by exercising autonomy over our Lands and traditional foods, a crucial process in addressing socioeconomic marginalization and health disparities (Coté, 2016).

Case Story 9

Reflections on weather, Inuit food systems and our way of life

By Ray Ruben, harvester, Mayor of Paulatuk in the Inuvialuit Settlement Region, Inuvialuit Game Council Representative and a contributing author to the For Our Future: Indigenous Resilience Report.

The weather has always been a topic of discussion when hunters meet. Today, weather is still a major factor in our daily and seasonal lifestyle. Over time, weather patterns have shifted and changed. A couple of decades back, we knew the river systems would freeze in early October. Now, the rivers freeze up in late October/early November. We once had winter hunting on the sea ice open in October, now the hunting season opens in December. It is now a very rare occasion to see icebergs and multi-year ice. We have had to adapt to the changing ice conditions to travel to and from our harvesting camp sites (see Figure 7). Our migrating animals and birds have also been impacted by the later freeze up and earlier thaw. Although they still migrate to the same areas to feed and rear their young, their migration routes and timing have changed. Conditions of the terrain and rivers, as well as the weather, are factors in their annual migrations.

Figure 7

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Inuvialuit Settlement Region.

Source

Photo courtesy of Kristen Walsh, 2018.

The knowledge once passed down by our Elders, verbally and through storytelling in regard to weather and seasonal changes, does not reflect what is happening today. The weather has become more unpredictable, and in some seasons, more severe. The strength of the winter winds when they come have increased in velocity. We have broken 50-year rainfall records and are observing more than usual coastal and inland erosion. The changes have impacted the ability of the Elders and harvesters to pass on the knowledge to younger people and families. Without the knowledge and teaching to become experienced travelers of the Land, it affects our ability and willingness to go out to live and harvest for our families. More young families are now focused on earning a wage to support their families. In some cases, both parents are forced to find work as food costs rise and they have less harvested food from the Land. The need to supplement country food for single families and the elderly who are unable to harvest for themselves has resulted in seasonal harvesting programs in limited numbers.

The seasonal harvesting of all our needs requires large freezer storage spaces. When the geese migrate through, we harvest and store enough for the next year so a typical family of four might need to harvest and store 50 to 80 geese for the year. We also fish during the spring, summer and fall for the coming winter and again require freezer space to store the catch. So, for every species and food source we harvest, we need proper storage space. In the days before climate change and the resulting changes on the Land and Waters around us, we were able to keep our food year-round stored in icehouses. These icehouses were simply caves dug down into the permafrost, fashioned with storage rooms large enough for the needs of the community and insulated and sealed with proper hatches. Today, because of the changes in the climate, it is nearly impossible to construct an icehouse, maintain it and keep it frozen. The government ceased funding for community walk-in freezers, as funding became less accessible and depleted. Yet there continues to be a need for large freezer storage space for those communities that maintain a traditional lifestyle of seasonal harvesting and food gathering for. It has been shown that when there is no safe storage space available, harvest activities to bring in the needed food supply are affected.

Across Canada, there have been other innovative examples of asserting Indigenous food sovereignty including school and community gardens, greenhouses, traditional food education programs, market garden and food cooperatives, country food harvesting and sharing programs, wild food banks and fish-buying clubs (Robin, 2019; Kamal et al., 2015; Martens, 2015; Thompson et al., 2012; Thompson et al., 2011). Others rely on strong traditional food sharing networks to address any climate-induced vulnerability. For example, in 2017 in the Skeena River watershed, salmon returns were at an all-time low, which required visiting the neighbouring Nisga’a territory to access healthier fish stocks (Human Rights Watch, 2020). In urban centres, providing Indigenous Peoples with the ability to learn about traditional practices and knowledge systems around food has been a proven mechanism to strengthen Indigenous food sovereignty (Ray et al., 2019). In an Inuit context, Sudlovenick (2019) worked with hunters from Iqaluit to discuss whether or not nattiit (ringed seals) were safe to eat, based on the presence of five pathogens—Brucella canis, B. abortus, Erysipelothrix rhusiopathiae, Leptospira interrogans, and T. gondii— demonstrating how Indigenous Knowledge Systems can inform adaptation measures.

Lynn et al. (2013) recognized the importance of tapping into Indigenous Knowledge Systems to address these climate change-related impacts. While Government of Canada legislation historically inhibited many First Nations from participating in agriculture (Tang, 2003), today there are several examples of successful agricultural initiatives undertaken by First Nations, including the the Muskoday First Nation in Saskatchewan, which has operated a successful organic agriculture co-operative for over a decade (Martens, 2016) and the Blood Tribe Agricultural Producers in southern Alberta (Kulshreshtha et al., 2011) and. The Métis Nation of British Columbia launched a Home Garden Project Pilot in 2021 to support Métis citizens in purchasing their own garden supplies. The program was so successful that it was expanded in 2023 to provide over 300 households with resources to access nutritious food and reconnect to their food system (Métis Nation British Columbia, n.d.).

8.3

Indigenous leadership at the nexus of water and energy sovereignty

The nexus of water and energy sovereignty is a key priority for First Nations, Inuit and Métis. In each context, reasserting authority and decision-making powers is enabling a redistribution of power. This move to self-determination and sovereignty is central to addressing the structural legacy of colonization. Here, we will focus on water and energy given the above discussion.

8.3.1 Energy

First Nations, Inuit and Métis communities are increasingly taking a leadership role in clean energy initiatives, currently leading a total of 204 projects greater than 1 MW across Canada (see Box 6; Indigenous Clean Energy, 2022a; Hoicka et al., 2021). Since 2017, the number of medium and large Indigenous clean energy projects (over 1 MW, powers over 150 homes) has grown by 29.6%. Energy sources for these projects include hydroelectricity (56.5%), wind (22.9%), solar (11.8%), bioenergy (7.1%) and hybrid sources (1.7%) (Indigenous Clean Energy, 2022a). Broadly, there is clear recognition that clean energy can uphold the stewardship and relational principles of Indigenous worldviews (Jaffar, 2015); support the reclamation of land and environmental rights (Lowan-Trudeau, 2017); contribute to local economic development and self-sufficiency (Lipp and Bale 2018; Rezaei and Dowlatabadi, 2016); and uphold efforts for autonomy and self-determination (Stefanelli et al., 2019). Several studies and reports have examined Indigenous involvement in renewable energy initiatives across Canada and the response of Indigenous communities to preferential policies such as feed-in-tariff laws or grid-connection for off-grid communities (Indigenous Clean Energy, 2022a; Hoicka et al., 2021; Stefanelli et al., 2019). Key to this is addressing challenges with electricity governance, regulations and policies, often within the jurisdiction of provincial and territorial governments and part of the role of public and private utilities (Indigenous Clean Energy, 2022a).

There is an ongoing discussion about the benefits of legacy “green” energy projects. In particular, hydroelectric development has been a lightning rod for Indigenous resistance due to potentially enormous landscape and waterscape changes, as well as the long-term impacts of GHG emissions and methylmercury releases (Tsuji et al., 2021). Large projects, both historical (such as the Bennett Dam and system of dams in Cree and Inuit territory) and contemporary projects (such as Project C and Muskrat Falls), have generated significant responses from Indigenous Peoples, leading to protests and concessions (Luby, 2020). These projects can have significant negative impacts on the ability of Indigenous Peoples to engage in hunting, harvesting and gathering practices, as well as on sacred sites and cultural landmarks. For example, the James Bay Cree and Northern Quebec Agreement, one of the first modern land claims in Canada, was motivated by Quebec’s interest in hydroelectric development (Nungak, 2017). The consultation and consent process for these projects can often be inadequate, with First Nations, Inuit and Métis concerns and interests not being sufficiently addressed. Similar concerns exist about the waste from nuclear power. In Ontario, for instance, First Nations and Métis governments have raised significant concerns over the transportation and storage of nuclear waste, including in the proposed deep geological reservoir. Small modular reactors, however, have received some interest from First Nations, (e.g., CBC News, 2021; Qaujigiartiit Health Research Centre, 2019), for their potential for modular energy generation.

Box 6

Indigenous sustainable energy projects

Indigenous Peoples are involved in the development of increasingly diversified and Indigenous-led clean energy projects in every region of Canada (Indigenous Clean Energy, 2022b; Lynch, 2017). Estimates suggest that First Nations, Inuit and Métis are now involved in over 200 medium-to-large scale renewable energy projects, 1,700 to 2,100 micro or small-scale renewable energy systems, 72 bioenergy projects and 19 transmission projects, bringing $295M in net annual returns and 2,870 person years of annual employment to Indigenous communities (Indigenous Clean Energy, 2022a; 2020).

Indigenous governments, corporations and other Indigenous entities are advocating for specific actions from federal, provincial and territorial governments that recognize Indigenous self-determination in clean energy strategies and are driven by economic reconciliation principles fostering policy efforts to achieve socioeconomic parity and Indigenous energy autonomy (National Indigenous Economic Development Board, 2022; Steffanelli et al., 2019). This includes decolonizing provincial, territorial and municipal energy systems, including public utilities (i.e., electricity and natural gas delivered to buildings), to enable Indigenous clean energy projects to contribute to these systems and generate returns (Lovekin et al., 2022).

The majority of the almost 300 communities across Canada classified as off-grid and diesel-reliant are Indigenous. As a result, these communities are not only unable to benefit from an economy of scale on a very expensive fuel source but are also exposed to health risks from polluting emissions. Nunavut depends solely on diesel generators, many of which are outdated (Waterlutions Media and Wong, 2020). Funding from the Government of Canada—including Natural Resource Canada’s Clean Energy for Rural and Remote Communities program, Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada’s Northern REACHE initiative and Indigenous Services Canada’s Strategic Partnerships Initiative, among others—has directed resources to support a transition off diesel by 2035.

The interconnections and challenges in energy generation also directly impact Indigenous Peoples’ ability to access food and water. First Nations, Inuit and Métis governments and organizations are working to ensure that federal, provincial and territorial governments align their obligations with respect to the implementation of the UNDRIP with the creation of Indigenous power authorities and utilities, where local Indigenous energy leadership promotes self-sufficiency and supports Canada’s clean energy transition (Lovekin et al., 2022).

8.3.2 Water

First Nations, Inuit and Métis have been asserting authority over water governance, research and management (see Box 7; Craft and King, 2021; Irvine et al., 2020). For instance, the Government of Northwest Territories’ Northern Voices, Northern Waters Strategy (2018) explicitly includes provisions for recognizing Indigenous rights and considers Indigenous Knowledge as equivalent to western science (Global Water Futures, 2020; Sandford et al., 2011). In Mittimatalik (Pond Inlet), Nunavut, youth and supporting partners use traditional knowledge from community Elders in tandem with western scientific methods, such as water sampling, to study the increasing frequency of gastrointestinal illnesses in the community (ITK, 2019b). However, bridging knowledge systems can be challenging in practice (Mantyka-Pringle et al., 2017). For example, the Mackenzie River Basin Board has a mandate to include Indigenous Peoples and integrate Indigenous Knowledge but struggles to adequately represent the diverse interests and knowledge of the many unique Indigenous communities in the Mackenzie River Basin’s work (see Case Story 8; Morris and de Loë, 2016).

Box 7

Indigenous water governance

Indigenous Peoples across Canada and internationally have issued a variety of declarations expressing our alarm at the degradation of water systems, describing Water as a fundamental gift of the Creator and affirming our role and responsibility to care for Water for current and future generations. The United Nations Human Rights Council’s Special Rapporteur on the human rights to safe drinking water and sanitation recognizes the 2003 Indigenous Peoples Kyoto Water Declaration and advocates for an ecosystem approach and the consideration of Water as a common good in line with Indigenous Peoples’ integrated view of Water and aquatic ecosystems (United Nations Human Rights Council, 2022). In Indigenous cultures across Canada, women and their role as life-givers are linked to their roles as water stewards and in spiritual ceremonies to protect water bodies from pollution and maintain the ability of watersheds to absorb and retain water (National Collaborating Centre for Indigenous Health, 2022; Chiblow, 2019).

The right of Indigenous Peoples to self-determination includes effective participation in the management of large aquatic ecosystems. Climate change, together with unsustainable natural resource extraction practices, is having a negative impact on Indigenous Peoples’ access to safe drinking water and making Indigenous communities vulnerable to drought and flooding (Chakraborty, 2021). In northern Canada, climate change has influenced the hydrological cycle to such an extent that communities have reduced freshwater availability (ITK, 2021a; Waterlutions Media and Wong, 2020; Goldhar et al., 2014).

Far too many First Nations, Inuit and Métis communities continue to lack access to clean drinking water and water infrastructure. A number of Government of Canada commitments to ending drinking water advisories in Indigenous communities have failed to reach their targets for more than three decades (Swampy and Black, 2021). In the face of these challenges, First Nations, Inuit and Métis communities across Canada are actively pursuing work to safeguard the watersheds in our homelands through new Indigenous Protected and Conserved Areas and water governance initiatives (Latulippe and McGregor, 2022; Arsenault et al., 2018). Examples include the establishment of the Ashnola sməlqmíx Protected and Conserved Area by the Smalqmix of the Sukwnaqin‑x (Lower Similkameen Indian Band, 2022), the Indigenous Watersheds Initiative in British Columbia and various initiatives of the National Indigenous Guardians Network, which reflect the inherent jurisdiction and responsibility of Indigenous Peoples to protect and manage our territories and watersheds according to Indigenous laws and customs. One example of this is the Anishinaabe Nibi Declaration (Craft and King, 2021), which voices the relationship with Nibi (Water) and jurisdictional responsibility that all Anishinaabe citizens have within the Treaty #3 territory, in accordance with the Manito Aki Inakonigaawin (Mother Earth law).

Blue kayak and paddle from a seal’s eye view. Light grey ripples extend from the stern and bow. Designed by Gitxsan author, artist and climate researcher Hetxw’ms Gyetxw (Brett D. Huson).

8.4

Climate change impacts on Indigenous economic systems and regenerating meaningful economies

“…We have a very real stake in the international community and our voices need to be heard, that this is not just an inconvenience to your bottom-line, to economies. This is a climate crisis.”
– Chief Dana Tizya-Tramm, Vuntut Gwitchin First Nation

8.4.1 Climate change impacts on Indigenous economic systems

In the above sections, we have described climate change as a cumulative impact related to the history and ongoing legacy of colonialism. In the Canadian context, this is directly linked to the imposition of an economic system on First Nations, Inuit and Métis that is predicated on our forceful removal, dispossession and criminalization. Further, Canada’s colonial practices have prevented First Nations, Inuit and Métis from participating in the Canadian economy (Yellowhead Institute, 2021), while at the same time trying to assimilate Indigenous Peoples into liberal capitalist citizens (Pasternak, 2020). This context is essential to understand the impacts of a rapidly changing climate on Indigenous economic systems, which are based on relationships that protect the well-being of people, culture and knowledge systems (Kelly and Woods, 2021).

By contrast, the continued commitment to resource development on First Nations, Inuit and Métis Lands and Waters—as evident in the 2022 Government of Canada’s Critical Minerals Strategy—alters “…the ability of Indigenous people to live with the Land in miyo wiche-towin (good relationships) or be able to have miyo pimatsowin (a good or healthy life / livelihood), through hunting, fishing or harvesting” (Jobin, 2020, p. 109). This model of development is based on extracting the maximum amount possible while mitigating the “unacceptable” risks (Curran et al., 2020). Under this model, First Nations, Inuit and Métis governments and citizens are forced to fit or integrate economic systems into non-Indigenous systems. This is actively challenged by Indigenous Peoples (Hilton, 2021; Kelly, 2017; Kuokkanen, 2011), offering coherent and feasible alternatives to the mainstream economic system (see Section 8.4.3).

Progress on participation within the mainstream economy has improved for First Nations, Inuit and Métis citizens and governments in the last decade, including through Impact and Benefit Agreements, resource sharing and progressive procurement policies. However, we struggle with the authority to control decision-making, including leasing, permitting and licensing on our Lands and Waters, without constant obstruction (Pasternak, 2020). At the core of these challenges is the foundational question of who has the authority to make economic decisions (e.g., with respect to resource development, highway construction or other infrastructure-related decisions) on Land and Waters. Kelly (2017) highlights this clearly: “[t]he challenge ahead for Indigenous People[s] contesting the foundations of capitalism lies in questioning who benefits from economic success, and who pays the cost of exploited land and resources” (p. 107). Decisions underlying the transition to a low-carbon future, including decarbonization decisions, cannot proceed without clearly considering the simultaneous goal of decolonization.

8.4.2 Indigenous participation in shaping a low-carbon future

First Nations, Inuit and Métis participate in the global economy and the transition to a low-carbon future in myriad ways. In highlighting this diversity, our intent is not to create divisions between Indigenous Peoples who are for or against development, or to the extreme, those who have “sold out” or “remained true” to their Indigenous values (Atleo, 2021). First Nations, Inuit and Métis can be both grounded in our culture and participate in the modern economy. Rather, our exploration seeks to highlight the complexity that First Nations, Inuit and Métis citizens, governments and communities need to navigate in the face of settler colonialism, neoliberal capitalism, environmental decision-making and the ongoing struggles for Indigenous self-determination. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (2015) summarizes this well: “sustainable reconciliation involves realizing the economic potential of Indigenous [Peoples] in a fair, just and equitable manner that respects their right to self-determination” (p. 207). Therefore, addressing climate change and its connection to the low-carbon transition is, at its foundation, about self-determination.

The Toward Net Zero by 2050 Conference Findings and Report prepared by the First Nations Major Projects Coalition (2022) explored opportunities for Indigenous Peoples within the net-zero energy transition. By providing examples of critical minerals, clean power generation, carbon capture, utilization and storage, and sustainable finance, they introduced a new vision in which Indigenous nations own or are presented with the opportunity to own or enter equity ownership in net zero energy and climate-resilient infrastructure projects. There are First Nations, Inuit and Métis governments that continue to seek equity-partnerships in resource development, including both conventional oil and gas development (such as liquid nitrified gas) and the infrastructure supporting its transmission (such as pipelines). In these contexts, there are also questions on whether equity-partnerships, without addressing the underlying decision-making frameworks in federal, provincial or territorial systems, are sufficient to truly advance decolonization and support the self-determination of First Nations, Inuit and Métis governments.

There are many other examples of First Nations, Inuit and Métis working to disrupt the mainstream economic system in both formal and informal ways. Indigenous Peoples have turned to the courts through strategic litigation to reinstate our jurisdiction and authority over resource development, such as the Delgamuukw case (The Canadian Encyclopedia, 2019). When these efforts do not materialize, First Nations, Inuit and Métis may resort to other forms of resistance. Indigenous Climate Action (2022; 2021a; 2021b) released several documents as part of its Decolonizing Climate Policy work that calls out market-based mechanisms—such as carbon offsets and techno-innovations like geo-engineering—that perpetuate the colonial and capitalist systems driving the climate crisis. In whatever way First Nations, Inuit and Métis citizens and governments participate in climate action and the net-zero transition, they uphold our right to self-determination.

8.4.3 Indigenous-led regeneration of meaningful economies

Potawatomi scholar Robin Wall Kimmerer speaks to the origin of the western economic system as one of scarcity, accumulation and competition (Kimmerer, 2013). Through describing her relationship with the Bozakmin (serviceberry in Potawatomi), she presents an alternative approach to economic organization—a gift economy that “arise[s] from the abundance of gifts from the Earth, which are owned by no one and therefore shared.” Carol Anne Hilton (2021), in her book Indigenomics, describes this difference: “While the Western mainstream economy is geared toward monetary transactions as a source of exchange, the Indigenous economy is based on relationship. Indigenous economies are the original sharing economy, the original green economy, regenerative economy, collaborative economy, circular economy, impact economy, and the original gift economy. The Indigenous economy is the original social economy” (p. 91).

This foundation of relationships and the extension of justice to all beings is a key element of Indigenous economies (Trosper, 2022). Coulthard (2013) challenges us to avoid thinking that these are products of the past. Instead, through the application of Indigenous governance principles to non-traditional economic activities, we can support thriving Indigenous economies. Cash Back, a special report by the Yellowhead Institute (2021), summarizes this well:

“The multiplicity of Indigenous economies is not a future prospect: it is already here. It is in the community-regulated fisheries and the dismantled dams that usher home fish kin. They exist in community freezers of wild meat, at feasts that fill bellies and hearts with connection and care. They can be seen in the governance protocols of sugar bush camps and salmon harvests. They live in lipstick lines, airlines, and moccasin making micro-enterprises. They are the multi-billion-dollar rental housing developments, tobacco trade, and lumber shops. They are in defund police movements, harm reduction initiatives, friendship centre childcares. At their core, what makes them Indigenous economies is that they do not exploit that which they depend upon to live, including people. And they protect a world that is not prepared to value people’s time, homelands, and harvests solely in cash” (p. 8).

Indigenous Peoples face challenges in the expressions of our economies both from a rapidly changing climate and from the structural and ongoing legacy of colonization. Making space for thriving Indigenous economies—and our basis in an ethic of relationality, reciprocity and responsibility—can offer important insights for efforts to advance both decolonization and decarbonization, while opening space for Indigenous-led climate action.

Stylized monochromatic violet evergreens.