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Since 1972, Eeyou Itschee, a territory east of James Bay, has been terraformed by the largest hydro-generation system on the planet, led by HydroQuébec and the Government of Québec. A territory 2/3rds the size of France has been diked, dammed, its rivers redirected, and criss-crossed by electrical transmission lines to the South and to the US. Due to the high levels of mercury released by the forests flooded for reservoirs the size of Belgium, health authorities recommend eating no more than two fish from the rivers each month. Fluctuating spring river levels led to the drowning of tens of thousands of Caribou. Learning only from newspapers, the resident Eenouch came together and negotiated the first land claims agreement in Canada, surrendering about 99% of their territory for promises of economic development. 50 years on, a settler-colonial geography, reinforced by a complex sociolegal framework, contain and constrain spatial relations in and of Eeyou Itschee through constant processes of renegotiation and reparation for land with money. Our research focused on a survey of the ways the science literature represents the region and its features. Our research ties with this territory are strongly linked to Nemaska, an Eenouch hamlet 2 days drive north of Montreal that was expropriated but managed to relocate and rebuild their community. Today, a lithium (spodumene) mine is being developed nearby. The community fears the impacts. However, the Nemaska band council approved the project due to the economic benefits it might bring. For more information: https://www.spaceandculture.com/2023/10/31/eeyou-istchee-old-nemaska/ 

Source

Shields, Rob, Cheryl Arnston, Nicholas Hardy and Juan David Guevara-Salamanca. 2023. "Eeyou Itschee and settler colonial terraforming." In 4S Paraconference X EiJ: Building a Global Record, curated by Misria Shaik Ali, Kim Fortun, Phillip Baum and Prerna Srigyan. Annual Meeting of the Society of Social Studies of Science. Honolulu, Hawai'i, Nov 8-11.

Since 1972, Eeyou Itschee, a territory east of James Bay, has been terraformed by the largest hydro-generation system on the planet, led by HydroQuébec and the Government of Québec. A territory 2/3rds the size of France has been diked, dammed, its rivers redirected, and criss-crossed by electrical transmission lines to the South and to the US. Due to the high levels of mercury released by the forests flooded for reservoirs the size of Belgium, health authorities recommend eating no more than two fish from the rivers each month. Fluctuating spring river levels led to the drowning of tens of thousands of Caribou. Learning only from newspapers, the resident Eenouch came together and negotiated the first land claims agreement in Canada, surrendering about 99% of their territory for promises of economic development. 50 years on, a settler-colonial geography, reinforced by a complex sociolegal framework, contain and constrain spatial relations in and of Eeyou Itschee through constant processes of renegotiation and reparation for land with money. Our research focused on a survey of the ways the science literature represents the region and its features. Our research ties with this territory are strongly linked to Nemaska, an Eenouch hamlet 2 days drive north of Montreal that was expropriated but managed to relocate and rebuild their community. Today, a lithium (spodumene) mine is being developed nearby. The community fears the impacts. However, the Nemaska band council approved the project due to the economic benefits it might bring. For more information: https://www.spaceandculture.com/2023/10/31/eeyou-istchee-old-nemaska/ 

Shields, Rob, Cheryl Arnston, Nicholas Hardy and Juan David Guevara-Salamanca. 2023. "Eeyou Itschee and settler colonial terraforming." In 4S Paraconference X EiJ: Building a Global Record, curated by Misria Shaik Ali, Kim Fortun, Phillip Baum and Prerna Srigyan. Annual Meeting of the Society of Social Studies of Science. Honolulu, Hawai'i, Nov 8-11.

“...Toxic Wastes and Race at Twenty (Bullard et al., 2007) revealed that communities of colour and poor communities were still being used as dumping grounds for all kinds of toxic contaminants. The authors discovered evidence that the clustering of environmental hazards, in addition to single sources of pollution, presented significant threats to communities of colour. Furthermore, the research showed that polluting industries frequently singled out communities of colour in siting decisions, countering the “minority move-in hypothesis”: the claim that people of colour voluntarily move into contaminated communities rather than being targeted in situ by dirty industries.” (122)

“Bullard (1990) has highlighted the problem of “Black Love Canals” throughout the United States, where issues of environmental injustice are deeply connected with environ- mental racism. For example, Bullard highlights the case of toxic DDT water contamination in the African American community of Triana, Alabama. In 1978, in the midst of the national media attention focused on Love Canal, residents in Triana raised complaints over ill-health effects and contaminated fish and waterfowl. Lawsuits in Triana against the Olin Corporation continued throughout the 1980s. Although the case is noted within environ- mental justice histories (see Taylor, 2014), it is not widely recognized or commemorated.” (126)

“Underpinning the slow, structural violence (see Galtung, 1969; Davies, 2019) of unequal and unjust toxic exposures is the problem of “expendability” … Pellow (2018) proposes that indispensability is a key pillar of critical environmental justice studies (alongside intersectionality, scale, and state power). This idea builds on the work of critical race and ethnic studies scholar John Marquez (2014) on “racial expendability” to argue that, within a white-dominated society, people of colour are typically viewed as expendable.” (127)

“National and international media headlines followed the Flint water crisis story as it unfolded, but, after the initial shock, Flint faded from media attention. It shifted from being a spectacular disaster to a case of slow violence. This paral- lels the dynamics of public memory surrounding many toxic disasters, struggles, and legacies.” (128)

The author’s main argument is two-fold. Acute environmental disasters (e.g., Chernobyl, BP Horizon Spill, Hurricane Katrina) that garnered public attention leave behind legacies of increased support for environmental action and legislation, although the public attention span is often too short for lasting change. At the same time, these disasters have received a disproportionate amount of public attention compared to the many more slow-moving toxicity disasters that affect people in more systematic but often less visible ways. Examples of this disparity include the contrast between the 1984 Bhopal disaster coverage, and the persistent toxicity in the area in the time since then in the form of industrial waste and infrastructure that is not maintained. It is additionally important to note that the cases that don’t receive much attention often affect marginalized groups (by race, socioeconomics) disproportionately.

"Instead of treating data as independent sources, we should be asking, Where do data direct us, and who might help us understand their origins as well as their sites of potential impact? The implications of these questions are threefold. For practitioners who want to work with data, understanding local conditions can dispel the dangerous illusion that any data offer what science and technology studies scholar Donna Haraway calls “the view from nowhere.”For students and scholars, attention to the local offers an opportunity to compare diverse cultures through the data that they make or use. Finally, local perspectives on data can awaken new forms of social advocacy. For wherever data are used, local communities of producers, users, and even nonusers are affected." (p. 3)