Reflections on 'Spirit of Place'
From: David Suzuki: The Autobiography
“I knew that unemployment in Skidegate and Masset, the two Haida communities, was very high, that some of the loggers were Haida, and that the non-Haida forest workers often spent money in the two communities. If economic opportunities were desperately needed, one would think the Haida would welcome forest companies; yet Guujaaw had been a leader in opposing logging. When I asked him why, he answered, “Our people have determined that Windy Bay and other areas must be left in their natural condition so that we can keep our identity and pass it on to following generations. The forests, those oceans, are what keep us as Haida people today.” Windy Bay, forests, and oceans were critical to Haida identity? This was a statement of a fundamentally different relationship with the “environment” than most of us have, a sense that we are where we live, a relationship that is essential to future generations for whom present Haida people feel a responsibility. I wondered how many executives of forest companies – or of any company for that matter – would consider future generations a fundamental part of their planning and actions.
I continued my interview: “So if the trees are logged off-“ Before I could finish my question, he responded, “If they’re logged off, we’ll probably end up the same as everyone else, I guess.”
“The same as everyone else” – such a simple statement, yet so deeply significant. It was only days later, while I was watching the rushes, that I recognized the enormity of this insight. Since then, Guujaaw has confirmed that my interpretation of his remarks is correct: Haida people do not think they end at their skin or fingertips. Guujaaw opened for me a window into a radically different way of seeing the world. As I reflected on his words, it became obvious that these words are true for me and for all of us.
If we looked at another person with a machine that registers temperatures in different colors, we would see a gradient of heat exuding from her body into her surroundings. Water vapor and tiny electromagnetic emissions also fan out from any body while we exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide with plants on land and in water. Each of us is connected to our surroundings, just as the Haida see that the air, water, trees, fish and birds of their land make them who they are. Talk to most Haida and within a few minutes it becomes clear that Haida Gwaii, “Island of the People,,” the islands they consider home, not only embody their history and culture but also are the very definition of who they are and why they are special and different.
Miles Richardson once told me about a meeting of the Fourth World Wilderness Congress, held in Colorado and attended by delegates from fifty-five countries and indigenous representatives from around the world. Miles was there for his expertise in aboriginal politics. One evening, he found himself in a circle with other First nations representatives, including some elders. He was lamenting that the Haida had lost so many of their ceremonies and cultural traditions, as well as their language. An elder sitting next to him, who Miles had thought was snoozing, lifted his head and remarked: “You know those ceremonies, those songs, those traditions you’re talking about – they haven’t gone anywhere. They’re in the same place your forefathers found them. They’re in the forests, they’re in the ocean, they’re in the birds, they’re in the four-leggeds. You’ve just forgotten how to listen. I have a suggestion – before you take another step forward [meaning, do more politicking], take a step back and remember how to listen.” Miles was tremendously moved by this and says he hardly said a word for the next three days.”
[Haida Gwaii are a chain of islands off the west coast of Canada, also called the Queen Charlotte Islands. Miles Richardson was the president of the Haida Nation and Guujaaw is a Haida artist.]