When Decisions Get Rushed: Pipelines, Courts, and the Long Memory of BC Resistance
We are on the traditional, ancestral, and unceded territories of the xสทmษฮธkสทษy̓ษm (Musqueam), Sแธตwx̱wรบ7mesh (Squamish), and sษlilwษtaษฌ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations. Across British Columbia, we are also in a broader landscape of unceded territories and treaty lands, where many First Nations continue to assert their rights and responsibilities to land, water, and future generations.
It is also important to recognize that treaties in this province have not been honoured in many cases, and that ongoing legal and political struggles reflect an unfinished and unresolved relationship. Across B.C., many Nations continue to speak up as major industrial projects move forward—sometimes under old approvals, sometimes under extended timelines, and often in ways that raise questions about consent, process, and accountability.
A recent case in B.C. court reflects this ongoing tension. It asks whether the province acted properly when it extended approval for a $12-billion natural gas pipeline project that has been delayed for years. Environmental groups and a hereditary chief are arguing that the province should not have simply extended an old approval without a full reconsideration of today’s environmental, legal, and social realities.
A pattern that keeps repeating
This case is not happening in isolation. It sits inside a much longer pattern many people in British Columbia have been watching for decades.
Major infrastructure and resource projects often follow a familiar cycle:
Approvals are granted.
Public concern grows.
Legal challenges and protests follow.
Delays happen.
And then, instead of starting over, old approvals are extended or carried forward.
Over time, public attention shifts, but the decisions remain.
Looking back at earlier years of activism and public debate, it is hard not to see how long these conversations have been going on. Environmental voices like Elizabeth May and the Green Party often struggled for space in formal political debates, even as research, community organizing, and grassroots work continued to raise concerns about climate, ecosystems, and governance decisions.
And still, many of the same types of projects have moved forward.
Site C and Treaty 8
One of the clearest examples is Site C, the hydroelectric dam on the Peace River in northeastern British Columbia. It is located on Treaty 8 territory, where several First Nations have raised long-standing concerns about impacts to farmland, wildlife, water systems, and treaty rights.
Despite decades of opposition, court cases, and warnings from scientists and land defenders, the project continued. For many people, Site C became another example of how difficult it is to reverse momentum once large infrastructure is set in motion.
Lelu Island and the Skeena River estuary
There have also been moments where sustained resistance did shift outcomes.
One of the most significant was the proposed LNG development at Lelu Island and the Skeena River estuary. The Skeena is one of British Columbia’s most important salmon systems—the second-largest salmon-bearing river in the province—and the estuary at Flora Bank was widely recognized by scientists and Indigenous Nations as critical habitat.
That project faced strong opposition from Indigenous leadership, scientists, and environmental groups, and it was ultimately stopped. For many, it remains an example of what is possible when ecological science, Indigenous governance, and public pressure align.
Fish farms and the long coastal struggle
Another long-running issue along the coast has been open-net salmon farming, which has been contested in British Columbia for more than 30 years.
In regions such as the Broughton Archipelago and Kingcome Inlet, Indigenous leaders, community members, and environmental advocates have raised ongoing concerns about the impact of industrial fish farms on wild salmon populations, marine ecosystems, and local food systems.
For decades, people like ‘Namgis hereditary chief Milli and others in the region have been actively opposing these farms, arguing they were introduced without proper consent and without meaningful consultation with the Nations whose waters they occupy.
Much of the industry has been controlled by large multinational corporations, including Norwegian-owned companies, and the core concern raised repeatedly is not only ownership—but how and why these operations were permitted in the first place, and why they continue despite long-standing scientific and community concerns.
Even today, the issue is still unfolding along the coast as policies shift, companies adapt, and Nations continue to assert authority over their waters and fisheries.
A larger question underneath it all
When you step back, these are not separate stories.
Pipelines.
Dams.
Fish farms.
LNG terminals.
They are all part of the same underlying question:
Who gets to decide what happens on the land and water—and what happens when decisions are made without full consent or without updating old approvals to reflect current realities?
The current court case about the pipeline approval is not just about one project. It is about whether governance systems can or should treat old decisions as permanent, even when science, law, and lived reality have changed.
Closing reflection
British Columbia has always been a place where land, water, industry, and rights intersect in complicated ways. But one thing remains consistent: communities do not forget.
They remember the approvals.
They remember the delays.
They remember the court cases.
They remember what was protected—and what was lost.
And so the question being asked in court today is also a question for all of us:
If we were making this decision now, with everything we know today, would we choose the same path?
This is where another perspective becomes important—one that has guided many Indigenous Nations for generations: the responsibility to think ahead for the next seven generations. Not just what a decision does today, but how it will shape life, water, land, and possibility far into the future.
How will the choices made now affect the people who are not yet here to speak for themselves?
Reflective Questions
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For government decision-makers:
When extending old approvals for major projects, how are you ensuring that today’s laws, climate science, and Indigenous rights frameworks are fully reflected—not just historical paperwork?
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For courts and legal systems:
At what point does “legal approval” become outdated when the environmental and constitutional context has significantly changed?
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For industry proponents:
How do you justify long-term industrial development in territories where consent remains contested or unresolved?
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For regulators and environmental assessment bodies:
What safeguards exist to prevent outdated environmental assessments from being used as justification for modern expansion?
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For Indigenous governance and leadership systems:
How are intergenerational responsibilities being upheld when negotiating or responding to large-scale industrial proposals in your territories?
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For non-Indigenous residents of BC:
What level of responsibility do you hold in understanding whose land you live on, and how decisions here affect Nations whose title was never ceded?
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For environmental organizations and activists:
How do you sustain long-term engagement when campaigns stretch across decades and outcomes are often uncertain or delayed?
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For voters and the general public:
How often do you connect election decisions to long-term land, water, and climate outcomes—not just short-term economic promises?
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For media and public discourse:
Why do some infrastructure stories gain sustained attention while others fade, even when the ecological stakes remain high?
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For all of us:
If we truly apply the principle of thinking ahead for the next seven generations, what current projects or policies would we question differently today?
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