François Legault's Impossible Dream
Experts say the premier's promise to build another hydroelectric dam on Indigenous territory is outdated, damaging to the environment and ignores the basic dignity of these communities
By Jesse Staniforth
On September 6, Premier François Legault addressed an audience of businesspeople in Bécancour and promised that, if re-elected, his government would undertake “the largest economic and ecological project in the history of Quebec.”
“This is the project that excites me the most,” Legault said. “This is what keeps me in politics.”
Legault’s plan would include new wind-farm developments, $50 million in rebates on electric cars, $40 million for a research centre to develop batteries and a new hydroelectric dam somewhere inside Quebec.
The promise of a dam stopped many Indigenous leaders cold.
“I wouldn’t even call this a ‘promise,’” AFNQL Regional Chief Ghislain Picard told The Rover. “This is a rabbit out of a hat for the premier. I don’t know what kind of reflection took place before making the announcement, but the very fact that our communities are referred to but not consulted, to me, that’s very insulting.”
Former federal MP Romeo Saganash—also former Deputy Grand Chief of the Cree Nation of Eeyou Istchee—is a veteran of several conflicts and negotiations over dams within Cree territory. He dismisses the possibility that any dam could be imposed on the Cree Nation by the will of the Quebec government alone.
“Nothing in the Cree territory goes ahead without the consent of the Cree,” Saganash said. “If François Legault doesn’t know that by today, I think he’s in deep trouble.”
Throughout the four years the CAQ has been in power, despite the premier’s refusal to acknowledge the existence of systemic racism, Chief Picard notes the CAQ has been reminded again and again that Indigenous people exist, are here to stay, and hold rights and title to the land.
“To me, it’s a total denial, if not ignorance of what took place in the recent past in Quebec before those agreements were signed in the ’70s,” Picard says. “It didn’t happen because of a generous Robert Bourassa: he was reminded by the courts he had to sit down and negotiate.”
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The hydroelectric development that shaped modern Quebec was largely done without the consent of the Indigenous communities upon which it’s been imposed.
In the First Nations and Inuit territories in the north of Quebec, the notion of a new dam brings to mind the barely resolved battles over the James Bay hydroelectric project — which then-Premier Robert Bourassa announced in 1971 as “the project of the century.” Under the terms of the James Bay Project, Hydro-Québec was set to dam the La Grande River (and others) and flood over 10,000 square kilometres of land and traplines that sustained the Cree since time immemorial.
This provocation triggered a legal battle between the Crees and Nunavimmiut (Nunavik Inuit) on one side and the James Bay Corporation — an entity created by Bourassa’s Liberal government to oversee the James Bay Project — on the other.
For most people who remember the fight over the James Bay Project, the story is mainly about its resolution in 1975 with the historic signing of the James Bay Northern Quebec Agreement (JBNQA) between Quebec, Cree, and Nunavimmiut leaders.
The agreement is popularly known as Canada’s first modern treaty and the source of the Cree Nation of Eeyou Istchee’s economic and political clout. Yet few know how the Crees were coerced through dirty legal pool into accepting the flooding of their land in exchange for the rights conferred by the eventual JBNQA.
In 1973, the Indigenous opponents of the James Bay Project convinced Justice Albert Malouf to grant an injunction against further development by the James Bay Corporation. Arguments on the government’s behalf — led by Maitre Jacques Lebel, Premier Bourassa’s brother-in-law — were broadly premised on two notions. The first was that “Indians” had no rights or title they could cede or give up. The second was that “Indians” had been a primitive people with very little culture to begin with, and since they had begun to use outboard motors on their canoes and modern firearms, Indigenous peoples in the north must be assumed to be assimilated into European settler society with no culture of their own remaining.
In 1981, Parti Québécois Hunting and Fishing minister Lucien Lessard argued, “[Indigenous people] cannot demand their sovereignty, because in order to have sovereignty, [a people] must have its own culture, its own language, and its own land.”
The idea that Indigenous cultures had either never existed or had been completely erased by European colonization was by no means limited to allies of the Quebec Liberal Party. In 1981, Parti Québécois Hunting and Fishing minister Lucien Lessard argued, “[Indigenous people] cannot demand their sovereignty, because in order to have sovereignty, [a people] must have its own culture, its own language, and its own land.”
After 78 days of hearing evidence from Cree and Nunavimmiut hunters, trappers, and trapline tallymen, Justice Malouf wrote in his decision that Native rights to the territories in question were clear and “the right of [the Indigenous] petitioners to pursue their way of life in the lands subject to dispute far outweighs any consideration that can be given to such monetary damages [as claimed by the James Bay Corporation].”
An immediate outcry followed, led both by the government and white opinion columnists, who took infantilizing aim at the “Indians” preventing the “project of the century” from continuing. Meanwhile, even as it filed two different appeals against the decision, the James Bay Corporation refused to abide by the Malouf injunction and continued work, after first closing its construction territory off to “outsiders.”
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A week after his ruling, Malouf’s injunction was overturned by an appeals court whose three judges — after a single day’s hearing — rejected the notion that Indigenous people had any right to Quebec lands.
Though the Malouf decision was premised on acknowledging Crees and Nunavimmiut possessed legal rights that could only be given up to the government by treaty, the judges refused to hear any discussion of such rights, dismissing them as “irrelevant to the application for a suspension of the injunction on the grounds of public interest.”
While the judges heard several hours of argument from lawyers representing the Indigenous petitioners, they didn’t bother to hear from lawyers for the government at all before finding in the government’s favour.
This left many with the impression the judges had arrived in court with no intention of siding with Native petitioners. The judges decided the case was not about Indigenous rights at all, but rather “It is […] the general and public interest of the people of Quebec which is opposed to the interests of about 2,000 of its inhabitants.” The second appeal to Malouf’s decision was allowed to proceed, but would be delayed eight months, during which time the Bourassa government could go ahead damming the La Grande.
The Indigenous petitioners had lost the river and Jean Chrétien — who was federal Minister of Indian Affairs at the time — made it clear his office would cut off legal funding if they pursued the appeal rather than negotiating an agreement. Forced to accept negotiation from a position of duress, the Indigenous petitioners began the process of developing what would become the JBNQA, a significant document and the foundation of the modern Cree Nation.
Yet few Crees forgot what it meant to see the lifeline La Grande river dammed, nor did they forget the traplines and family burial sites now under dozens of metres of water in places like the Caniapiscau Reservoir, formerly Caniapiscau Post.
That memory helped bring the Crees and Nunavimmiut together again a decade later in the ultimately successful fight to defeat Stage Two of the James Bay Project on the Great Whale river, a multibillion-dollar project the Quebec government announced in 1986 and finally cancelled in 1994 after years of devastatingly effective lobbying, social outreach, and political protests by Cree and Nunavimmiut activists.
The dam agreement most Quebeckers remember is the 2002 Paix des Braves (also known as “Agreement Respecting a New Relationship between the Cree Nation and the Government of Quebec”), which was negotiated on a Nation-to-Nation basis by then–Quebec Premier Bernard Landry and then–Cree Nation Grand Chief Ted Moses.
That agreement sought to resolve, among other things, years of court battles against the Quebec government, whom lawyers for the Cree Nation argued was not keeping up its end of the JBNQA and subsequent related agreements.
The Paix des Braves negotiation took place in accordance with United Nations guidelines on development in Indigenous territories, and many Crees accepted the eventual diversion of roughly half the Rupert River into the new Eastmain 1-A and La Sarcelle generating stations. But many other Crees decidedly did not: the Paix des Braves signing ceremony was marked by emotional protest, and shortly thereafter, Cree Nation voters elected Grand Chief Matthew Mukash, a veteran of the Great Whale fight and a staunch opponent of dams on Cree rivers.
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Grand Chief Mandy Gull-Masty, head of the Cree Nation Government, tells The Rover she was “kind of surprised” by Legault’s announcement.
“I was caught off guard [by the mention of dams],” says Grand Chief Gull-Masty, “because we have not had any discussions of any sort concerning that topic in the Cree territory. I’m looking to see what kinds of further statements [Legault is] going to come out with.”
The Cree Nation Government has spent years studying the effects of previous Hydro-Québec installations on its territory, noting changes to wildlife and shifts in access to traditional territory brought about by the dams.
“I haven’t even asked anybody about the question of hydroelectric development,” Gull-Masty says. “It was not part of my agenda to do so. If the question is brought to me, I will bring it to my members. But considering the last position we took—we launched an international campaign against the Great Whale project. I don’t think there would be a very different response [today]. We were very clear that we did not wish to have expanded energy projects within the territory.”
Gull-Masty acknowledges Legault’s promises were made as part of an election campaign — not unlike previous promises for a new dam he made prior to his election in 2018. That plan dissolved after he failed to interest Ontario premier Doug Ford in a hydroelectric partnership. But even if Legault could get Ontario back to the table, the Grand Chief is skeptical of Legault’s ability to fast-track a hydroelectric dam in Cree territory.
“The JBNQA binds Eeyou Istchee in a relationship with Quebec,” says Gull-Masty. “One day it’s a campaign promise, but has it ever come to my office? No. Will it ever come? I don’t know. But they know there is a process to asking this question, and it is up to whoever is the next government to decide, ‘We’ve made these statements: how are we going to proceed—and where?’ These questions are probably going to be very heavy on their minds.”
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The location for the development of a potential new dam is as-yet undetermined.
In an email to the Rover, Hydro-Québec spokesperson Maxence Huard-Lefebvre turned down an interview on the subject, saying, “We are a Crown corporation, we have a duty of reserve during an election campaign.” However, he concluded, “It is much too early to talk about any particular river or region.”
From the perspective of the AFNQL regional government, says Chief Picard, “This goes beyond the geopolitical situation in Quebec, where we have some Nations with treaties and others with no treaties. We have agreed there are key elements to consider in any situation affecting lands and resources: the climate, the right —if not the obligation — to be consulted and accommodated, First Nations being a party to development. And at the end of all this, there’s the revenue-sharing principle. On all fronts, Quebec has failed — this is true of the outgoing government, but it is also true of governments before that.”
One potential development site outside the Cree Nation is the Magpie River in the Cote-Nord’s Minganie region, which Hydro-Québec considered damming as part of its 2009-2013 strategic plan. The Magpie is on the traditional territory of the Innus of Ekuanitshit. The Canadian Press asked Chief Jean-Charles Piétacho whether he and his community would ever place damming the Magpie up for discussion, to which he succinctly replied, “Never.”
The Journal de Québec reported hydroelectric dams are surprisingly hard on the environment, producing roughly 6 per cent of the world’s methane and continuing to pollute for decades after their construction is complete.
Though Chief Picard acknowledges any Nation may agree to allow hydroelectric development on its territory, he recognizes the position of Chief Piétacho and his community is firm, and he agrees: “The Magpie River is a no-go: you don’t touch that one.”
Romeo Saganash sees the Magpie project as already finished. He notes that though Hydro-Québec successfully imposed the Manic-5 dam (now the Daniel-Johnson Dam) on the Manicouagan River in Innu territory beginning in 1959, such a move could never be repeated today.
“The Innu clearly have rights, and they’ve never surrendered or ceded their territory,” he says. “Their rights are strong and grounded. That’s going to be a big test.”
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There are plenty of non-Indigenous arguments against hydroelectric development.
The Journal de Québec reported hydroelectric dams are surprisingly hard on the environment, producing roughly 6 per cent of the world’s methane and continuing to pollute for decades after their construction is complete.
Meanwhile, André Bélanger of la Fondation Rivières lambasted the plan for a return to hydroelectric dams, telling L’Actualité dams are no longer socially acceptable in Quebec because of the way they’ve irreversibly transformed living environments. “It’s as though [François Legault] lacked imagination and wanted to come back to [the] James Bay [Project],” Bélanger said. “This type of project is over, we are elsewhere today, and now [power generation] must come mainly from wind.”
Doubts about dams extend even to representatives from Polytechnique Montréal’s Trottier Energy Institute — which, along with Hydro-Québec and clean-energy consultants Dunsky Energy + Climate Advisors — calculated the projected 100 TW expected increase in demand for electrical production within Quebec.
Trottier Institute researcher Normand Mousseau told the Canadian Press that new dams “would be expensive, much more expensive than wind power, and would not provide storage that could justify these costs.” He noted that hydroelectric dams’ storage capacity is measured by their reservoirs, and “It is quite difficult to build large reservoirs in Quebec because the territory is relatively flat, so we must flood large areas.”
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Romeo Saganash says ahead of those problems, François Legault and his government, if re-elected, should expect a variety of court challenges.
The first will likely be a classic: Quebec has a tradition of arguing hydroelectric dams are provincial projects and must be subject only to Quebec’s environmental assessment and review, rather than federal processes, or those processes provided for under the JBNQA.
“A dam has an impact on migratory birds, navigable waters, fisheries, and Indigenous people’s lands,” Saganash says. “These are all federal matters of jurisdiction. A hydro dam triggers federal environmental assessment and review.”
But more than those issues, Saganash says, the Cree Nation has undergone some of the most massive social and political changes of any First Nation since the announcement of the James Bay Project 51 years ago.
“Where Bourassa announced 100,000 jobs in ‘the project of the century’ at the Quebec Coliseum without even consulting with the Crees, much less asking for permission,” Saganash recalls, “that will never happen again, and we proved that with the proposed Great Whale development. They will never be able to do that anymore.”
Additionally, Saganash notes, the federal passage of Bill C-15 — which binds Canadian law to the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples — means the Legault government could only undertake a project with the free, prior, and informed consent of the Cree Nation, or any other Indigenous Nation upon whose territory his government wished to build a dam.
“That’s now recognized by federal legislation,” Saganash affirmed. “We have all of this in front of us. Good luck, M. Legault.”
About the author…
Jesse Staniforth is a Montreal-based freelance journalist. From 2011 to 2018 he covered the Cree Nation of Eeyou Istchee for the Nation magazine, and between 2018 and 2020 he was Canada editor for US cannabis industry newsletter WeedWeek.
About the illustrator
Deenz is an Egyptian/Palestinian interdisciplinary artist based between Cairo and Montreal. Her work places a heavy emphasis on the visual, primarily drawing inspiration from music, as well as aspects of her upbringing and culture which she strives to represent from the lens of someone who has grown out of its tough shell.
Such a well written article ! Very informative.
Agreed that Legault's dam musing are a flight of fancy, but as one of the reporters who covered Bourassa's Power from the North announcement, the Malouf injunction hearings and community-by-community consultations toward the first James Bay agreement, it became clear to me that Ungava's indigenous peoples are not a monolith when it comes to cutting deals. As we have seen from similar resource skirmishes elsewhere in Canada, first nations are divided from the AFN down. Everything is for sale at a price, including individual rights.
There are strong technical and economic arguments against hydro dams. My thinking is that the sales pitch for wholesale electrification is based on a number of questionable assumptions about reservoir sustainability and grid resilience in the face of climate change, HQ's fixation on exporting 'excess' capacity, and the collective delusion that the West's energy problems will disappear once everyone is driving electric vehicles. (Anyone who has driven rural Canada in winter knows that EVs are a chancey bet in winter for anything other than a daily commute or grocery run. Imagine driving the Matagami-Radisson route in an E-pickup in summer, let alone in midwinter.)
James Bay taught us that in any debate over individual versus collective rights, those of 8.3 million Quebeckers will win every time — and that Ottawa won't intercede.