Upstream battle

Only 100 residents keep this former pulp-mill town from being swallowed by rain forests that hug Canada's rugged Pacific coast.

That modest population doubled on Jan. 15, when chiefs of the Heiltsuk and Nuxalk nations met in Ocean Falls to protest construction of an Atlantic salmon hatchery. The facility is being built by Pan Fish of Norway, the world's second-largest aquaculture company. If finished, it will produce 10 million young Atlantic salmon a year to supply farms proposed for much of the province's central coast.

The global fish-farming industry continues to grow, providing one-third of the fish people consume. But as production rises, so do questions about environmental impact and the conditions under which fish are raised. British Columbia, with its tradition of commercial fishing, tribal fishing rights, and environmental activism, sits at the center of the controversy.

"We are struggling to save a way of life," Heiltsuk chief Edwin Newman told the crowd at the Ocean Falls rally. Alongside other chiefs dressed in their button-blanket cloaks and carved cedar masks, Mr. Newman declared, "We do not want fish farms on the central coast."

Most First Nations, as aboriginal peoples in Canada are called, have never signed treaties ceding their land. They see the government-backed expansion of fish farms as a violation of their territorial rights.

The Heiltsuks have a lawsuit pending against Omega Salmon Group, Pan Fish's Canadian subsidiary. Tribes wield legal clout in British Columbia, because the province must provide compensation if they can prove resources were taken from their land.

"In Canada, under laws that have been hard fought and established through the Supreme Court, industry and government must both consult and accommodate First Nations in economic development projects. That simply hasn't happened here," says Mike Jacobs of the Heiltsuk Fisheries Program.

Hours before the protesters arrived in Ocean Falls, Omega announced a temporary halt to construction. "We are fully committed to a positive and transparent dialogue with First Nations," said Omega project manager Kjell Aasen. (The company has resumed construction, and expects to finish by summer.)

Environmentalists and fishing interests support the Heiltsuks' efforts as part of an international campaign against the salmon-farming industry. Underwater cages have replaced the sea as the main source of the world's salmon and in the process transformed salmon from a seasonal delicacy to a cheap staple food.

So far in British Columbia, 85 salmon farms are in operation, only three of which operate on the remote central coast, the territory of tribes such as the Heiltsuk. Last September, the province's newly elected government lifted its seven-year-old ban on new fish farms. In recent months, 90 salmon farms have been proposed. Premier Gordon Campbell's administration aims to quadruple the province's salmon production in a decade.

The government has taken heat for its pro-business stance, and faced increased scrutiny. The minister for fisheries, John Van Dongen, who led the drive to boost aquaculture, resigned in late January after an announcement that he was under investigation for allegedly giving confidential information to a salmon-farming company.

About half the salmon eaten in the United States were once livestock, not wildlife. Coastlines in Chile, Norway, Scotland, Canada, and the states of Maine and Washington are dotted with salmon farms, grids of square platforms floating on the waves. Tens of thousands of salmon swim inside a 30-foot net suspended from each platform.

The jagged coastline stretching from Alaska to central British Columbia is one of the few places on earth where economies and local cultures still revolve around wild salmon.

"We are salmon people, just like you," Heiltsuk chief Harvey Humchitt told listeners in Ocean Falls. "We rely on our salmon, we rely on all the resources from the ocean, and we see the Atlantics as a threat to all those natural resources that live in the ocean."

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