Curtis Rattray has lost track of the hours he spent wrangling over an agreement with Vancouver-based mining company NovaGold Resources Inc.
But by yesterday, the efforts appeared worthwhile, as Mr. Rattray, chairman of the Tahltan Central Council, was celebrating an agreement between the council and NovaGold that he said set new benchmarks for aboriginal participation in mining projects and marks a key step in NovaGold's quest to build a $1.1-billion gold and silver mine in Tahltan traditional territory.
"It's really raising the standards in regard to Tahltan participation, by addressing the social and environmental impacts," Mr. Rattray said.
Doug Brown, vice-president of business development at NovaGold, also welcomed the pact.
"To me, the critical thing is to demonstrate through your actions how you intend to behave. The document we have now puts into legal terms what we have been doing for two-and-a-half years already," Mr. Brown said.
The agreement, announced yesterday, features a $1-million annual payment to a Tahltan-administered trust fund, royalties to the Tahltan, and a role for the Tahltan in how the project's environmental effects are monitored and addressed. For the Tahltan, the agreement marks the beginning of what some believe could be a new model of resource development in the region.
For resource firms, the agreement speaks to increased expectations, costs and obligations. There are 22 projects in various stages of the permitting process in the province, according to the Mining Association of British Columbia, ranging from small gravel pits to NovaGold's 30,000-hectare copper-gold-silver Galore Creek project. About half of that investment is destined for the northwestern part of the province, a region known to some as B.C.'s golden triangle and to others simply as Tahltan Territory.
For the past year, the Tahltan -- consisting of two bands, the Tahltan, based in Telegraph Creek, and the Iskut, based in the town of the same name -- have been riven by a dispute involving politics, money and family ties. The controversy has divided families, and included a nine-month sit-in at the Telegraph Creek band office aimed at unseating Tahltan Chief Jerry Asp, seen by some as too friendly with corporate interests and too keen on the jobs and contracts new mines would represent. The sit-in wound up in October, after Indian Affairs and Northern Development appointed a third-party manager to administer band affairs.
Mr. Asp remains chief and continues to negotiate. Mining is already a big activity in the region. The Eskay Creek gold mine, owned by Barrick Gold Corp., has pumped millions into the economy since opening in 1995. But Eskay could close as soon as 2007. As it winds down, other projects are jostling to take its place, such as bcMetals Corp.'s pursuit of its Red Chris copper mine. Shell Canada Ltd. has coal bed methane exploration interests in the region. Over the summer, it was not unusual to see 15 helicopters a day, laden with crews and gear, buzz in and out of the local airstrip.
Discontent over the way the bands were governed was pushed into the open by the flurry of resource proposals. Fifteen people were arrested in September after blocking an access road to a coal project being developed by London, Ont.-based Fortune Minerals Ltd. Among them was Bertha Louie, an Iskut resident, who said multiple resource proposals have stretched communities to the limit and left many feeling in the dark.
"Communication around here is kaput, even with our leaders," Ms. Louie said this fall. "We don't know what is going on."
The dispute turned a spotlight on the Tahltan Central Council, which has taken a leading role in negotiating with resource companies. The TCC has been criticized for alleged backroom deal making and for not keeping the wider community informed. Mr. Rattray said yesterday the council does represent all Tahltan, and steps are under way to build bridges between the bands.
Information and consultation -- or the lack thereof -- are key elements in the Tahltan controversy. Two landmark Supreme Court rulings in 2004 confirmed the duty of federal and provincial governments to consult aboriginal communities about activities that could infringe on aboriginal rights and title, even if such claims had not been proven in court. To some degree, the rulings let industry off the hook, as it put the duty to consult squarely on governments. But most analysts agreed that while industry might not have a legal obligation to consult aboriginal groups, it makes good business sense.
Now the arguments revolve around how much consultation is enough. That's particularly the case for Fortune's Mount Klappan project, east of Iskut in a region with stunning scenery that Ms. Louie and others consider equal parts backyard and spiritual birthright.
Ms. Louie and others believe they should have a say in which projects go ahead -- or at least a say in the timing of the slew of projects that could pop up in their territory.
Current laws don't provide for that approach. The rights spelled out by the Supreme Court in the 2004 rulings do not amount to a veto. Regardless, firms will have to do more, and spend more, if they want to build a project on aboriginal territory, says Terri Brown, a spokeswoman for the Telegraph Creek sit-in group.
And that means putting proposals for projects in language elders and others can understand, she adds. "It's going to need tremendous effort to explain, in depth, what it's all about," says Ms. Brown, a former president of the National Action Committee on the Status of Women. "I think [resource companies] probably actually believe that they have consulted and have met the requirements. And I would say they have probably met 10 per cent of it.
"But I don't think they are going to able to afford to not do it any more. Because it's going to cost them." The costs could come in delays, financing difficulties or in reputational costs that see a company's stock fall when its public image is taking a beating.
Indigenous people may not have a veto right but they can exercise power in other ways. "With stakeholders, [if] they don't like what you're doing, they lobby your MP, they lobby their MLA, they try to get you to change," says Bob Joseph of Vancouver-based Indigenous Corporate Training.
"With aboriginal people, if they don't like what you're doing, they get their lawyer to draw up a writ, they can have you in court by the end of the day with a $7-million legal challenge . . . .
"So don't tell me you have no money for aboriginal relations. Because I think you have a lot."
The industry is concerned conflicts over social issues could threaten a nascent comeback.
"These [existing] mines all have lives, and they aren't going to go on forever," says Michael McPhie of the Mining Association of British Columbia. "If we don't get some of these projects into production, there is a danger that we could see the industry head south."
Mr. Asp, who has been the lightning rod for much of the controversy, insists resource projects will come at some point. The Tahltan's interests will be served by getting involved early and pushing for the best possible deal they can, he says. The same goes for indigenous people elsewhere in Canada, he adds.
"Every single mining project in Canada that's adjacent to a community is adjacent to an aboriginal community," Mr. Asp says. "And aboriginal communities are not going to leave. We're not company towns."The Globe and Mail
