Excerpt: The Pacific Northwest is simply this,” New York Times journalist Timothy Egan wrote in 1990, “wherever the salmon can get to.” Many agreed with him (although others were quick to point out that the range of salmon is extensive, even transnational). Regional icons like Douglas fir trees and salmon evoked the “geographical isolation and natural wealth” that historian Bill Lang identified as Pacific Northwest characteristics.3 More importantly, their anadromous life cycle meant they symbolized migration and indigeniety both, central and often opposing traits of Pacific Northwest regional identity. Salmon rely on balanced bioregions through which they journey thousands of miles–from the cool, rushing waters that course through the forest canopy to the mouth of the Columbia River, and into the Pacific Ocean, after which they return to their natal streambeds to spawn. They travel great distances and yet are deeply rooted to home.

This short essay addresses three divergent forms of Pacific Northwest regionalism and argues that each is partial and political. Regionalism tied to iconographic nature, such as in Egan’s definition, linked the vitality of the region to its resources, problematically as those resources waned. Regionalism animated by settler attachment to (and cooptation of) Indigenous material culture simultaneously froze Indian cultures in a seemingly authentic past and erased contemporary Native peoples. Alternatively, a syncretic sense of place that intertwines settler colonialism and Indigenous regionalisms while recognizing asymmetrical power relations can reintroduce Indigenous land and resource claims back into narratives of place, recentering the contests for lands that script the very debates over the meaning of the far west. While regional definitions reflect their geographic and temporally setting—they are supposed to be distinctive, after all—they are all arguments about place and people.



Abstract: Geographers have warned against essentializing responsibility in the geographies of responsibility literature. What responsibility is, however, and how it can be enacted remains under-explored. Yet, in published texts and public statements that seek to acknowledge relationships between Indigenous and settler peoples in Canada, the language of responsibility is used with abundance. I chose to pick up this concept of responsibility in my research. My dissertation is the result of a partnership-based project with Huu-ay-aht First Nations. I investigate what responsibility looks like with respect to new relationships under a modern treaty using the Maa-nulth Treaty as an exploratory case study. I begin by theorizing settler responsibility by extending Hannah Arendt’s work to the settler colonial context of Canada and argue that a collective responsibility is necessary to address settler colonial relationships. I then explore how settler researchers can better navigate and work through research—research with Huu-ay-aht First Nations for me as mamaałni (white person/settler)—in settler colonial contexts to support social change. Drawing from the Treaty itself and key informant interviews with Huu-ay-aht and First Nations leaders, Maa-nulth Treaty negotiators, and implementation teams (n=26), my inquiry focuses on Huu-ay-aht First Nations’ self-government as they move from under the thumb of the Indian Act through the tools provided by the Maa-nulth Treaty. Finally, I investigate the ‘new relationship’ between Federal, Provincial, and Huu-ay-aht First Nations Governments under the Treaty. My theoretical findings contribute to literature contending that settler colonialism cannot be viewed as historical or structural only, void of personal affect, or detached from everyday lived experiences. In this vein, empirical findings from the case study reveal that Huu-ay-aht First Nations’ choice to enter treaty negotiations and implement the final agreement was linked directly to visions of ʔiisaak (respect with caring) and ʔuuʔałuk (taking care of, especially for future generations), while recognizing the imperfection of the treaty process and resulting agreements. Although Huu-ay-aht First Nations accepted the Maa-nulth Treaty to move from under the Indian Act, work to define new relationship needs to occur. To conclude, I offer recommendations—informed by research participants—for how to improve the treaty process.


Abstract: This article reconstructs popular ideas about climate and climate change among early twentieth-century white southern Africans. The environmental history literature on South Africa and other settler societies has focused on the global connections formed by scientific elites as well as indigenous resistance to colonial policies. In assuming a largely homogeneous white intellectual world, this literature has overlooked the variety and longevity of settler vernaculars that drew on European and African folk traditions, direct experiences with semiarid landscapes, and ideas about weather and climate that circulated transnationally. Many, perhaps most, southern African settlers believed that diminishing rainfall threatened the long-term existence of “white civilization” in the region, and they continued to believe this for decades, despite multiple government reports insisting it was not so. Archival accounts, letters to the editor, and even testimony offered to government commissions reveal the ideas and theories that underpinned this persistent belief in declining rainfall. The stories that southern Africa’s settlers told about the weather, and their commitment to forms of knowledge rejected by their “experts,” open windows into an intellectual world that joined together town and country, educated and uneducated, Afrikaner and British. This article recreates a time when little was known for certain about the climate history of empire’s outposts and when there was little unanimity on the significance of individual weather events.