In seconds, an angry rattle grows into a tongue of orange flame, glowing in the dusty landscape of the Skeetchestn Indian refuge in central BC. Gilchrist – a firefighter – sets fires to put out fires and “cleanse” the earth. He is one of about 20 members of the growing Salish Internal Fire Company and part of a growing movement. Indigenous guardians of knowledge and fire ecologists are reviving an ancient practice that was banned during colonialism when it says that at least one firefighter was hanged for setting fire. Firefighter Joe Gilchrist demonstrates how a cultural burn begins in a pile of sage brush near Savona, BC (Harold Dupuis / CBC / La Semaine Verte) This June, British Columbia allocated $ 359 million for future fire protection, with $ 1.2 million invested in combustion projects this year. The province says it supports the cultural burnout set out in the Indigenous Rights Action Plan (UNDRIP). But fire environmentalists say support is lacking and combustion plans often disappear due to approval delays. BC, hundreds of thousands of hectares were intentionally burned each year, but now less than 10,000 hectares of land are burned to protect the community. In the last two years, the Ministry of Forests says combustion projects have doubled – from 33 to 69 between 2021 and 2022. This year, a total of 9,100 hectares of planned incineration were identified, but not all were burned due to weather or safety issues. The ministry says it supports indigenous-led burning, eligible for funding under the Community Resiliency Initiative, and the province has partnered with First Nations in Fraser Canyon, Okanagan, Kootenays, Cariboo and Chilcotin and the Pemberton Valley. But firefighters say support is very limited. “The commitment was really minimal, but I think it’s growing,” Gilchrist said. Firefighters and environmentalists say more and faster needs to be done, with the province experiencing the longest period of wildfires ever recorded in 2018 – after burning more than a million hectares.
Use the fire to fight the fire
A heat dome that broke a record in 2021 made things worse. A year ago, temperatures soared to 49.6 degrees Celsius in the town of Lytton BC, before a fire engulfed the community, killing two residents. Fire scientists say it’s time for Canada to learn from other parts of the world that have been devastated by wildfires that use fire aggressively to fight the fire. Firefighter Joe Gilchrist uses a torch to start a burn near Savona, BC (Harold Dupuis / CBC / La Semaine Verte) Cultural or indigenous combustion for forest fire mitigation is rekindled from California to Australia as the climate crisis makes summers hotter and drier, increasing the severity of forest fires. Gilchrist says lighting controlled fires helps reduce fuel for fires where the earth is so dry and rotting. “If it doesn’t burn, it just builds up,” he said. “It just takes a lightning strike or a human accident for a catastrophic fire.”
Controlled fires help calm forest fires
The baritone “senior in training” warns visitors to watch out for rattlesnakes in the tall grass that has sprouted two months after the burning of this strip of land in April. Creates a green buffer that slows down any fire. (Andrew Lee / CBC) “The use of fire by the natives must be legalized. Burning in the forest is not bad. We are not trying to kill trees. We are just trying to bring back medicines and fodder and make communities safer because there will be much less fire.” said Gilchrist. Chilliwack forest fire ecologist Robert Gray says the cultural burnout dates back “hundreds of thousands of years” and has enabled indigenous communities to evolve and thrive. Traditionally, indigenous firefighters — often a hereditary site — lit fires to clear debris that could fuel more raging fires. This was done for the renewal of crops and pastures and for safety. Examples of the practice can be found all over the world. “We need to significantly increase the pace and scale of the cultural and prescribed fire,” Gray said.
Fast training, funding required
But Gray says burning as much as 50,000 acres in the next decade will require at least 17 specially trained teams in BC. He says Canada lags far behind the United States, where there are an average of 150,000 prescription burns each year, covering four to six million acres, with very few fire escapes. Firefighter Joe Gilchrist points out an area in Savona, BC. (Yvette Brend / CBC News) Although indigenous firefighting practices were banned in BC. when the settlers arrived in the 19th century, the burning did not stop. For the past half century, forest land has often been cut down and burned to prepare the land for tree planting or a clean brush for safety. In recent years, guides have burned to create a better wildlife habitat. During the 1970s and 1980s, up to 100,000 hectares were burned pre-emptively each year, but this has dropped to less than 10,000 hectares per year in recent decades, according to provincial figures.
Lessons from Australia
Australian William Nikolakis is the executive director of Gathering Voices, which works with First Nations to rebuild their territorial management. An assistant professor in the Department of Forestry at the University of British Columbia says the most fire-prone continent on the planet is revitalizing indigenous knowledge using “cold” or controlled fires. Former United States chief Russell Myers Ross burnt with Gathering Voices near Lake Williams, BC in April. (Joshua Neufeld) “Fire is a tool that has been used all over the world – the practice has simply been lost in many ways and has stopped because of people and property,” explains Nikolakis. In Australia over the past decade, Indigenous-led fire projects have affected thousands of people who burned more than 17 million acres of North Australian land and created millions of dollars in Australian Carbon Credit Units. Here in BC, starting in 2019, Gathering Voices has partnered with Tŝilhqot’in Nations of Yunesit’in and Xeni Gwet’in. They have gone through the burning of 15 to 250 hectares in one year. Nikolakis says that his society brought the Australian indigenous burning guru Victor Steffensen to help with education. Russell Myers Ross works with a crew on a cultural burn near the traditional Yunesit’in grounds near Lake Williams, BC (Joshua Neufeld) “We had people aged eight, nine who went out and set fire to the ground to remove, to clear the landscape, to remove dead grass, to brush things that have dead trees. We are bringing the fire back into the landscape to do it. healthy “, said Nikolakis. Fire escapes are always a concern, so it is a “slow and careful” process. However, Nikolakis said the lack of funding and cumbersome approval procedures make incineration impossible in many parts of BC, where indigenous communities are often most vulnerable to fires, floods and extreme climate change.
More than community safety
Russell Myers Ross, who led Yunesit’in First Nation for eight years, grew up near Lake Williams in central BC, where he says fire has changed most people’s lives. He says the approval of burns often takes a long time and the critical windows in the spring and fall are lost. “We have the opportunity to rehabilitate areas that have not been cared for for a long time,” said Myers Ross, whose daughter and elders are all helping with the incineration project. He says it is a way to “cleanse” the earth and reclaim a caring role. “Our ancestors did this; the real problem was that we did it almost from the time we had contact or since our communities were disrupted.” A section of forest that burned black during the 2021 fires is covered with a green carpet and is bordered by lupins near Coldwater Creek, south of Kamloops, BC. in June 2022. (Yvette Brend / CBC News)
