Islands at the Edge: Preserving the Queen Charlotte Islands Wilderness

John I. Jackson was a library technician at the University of Toronto.

There is a slowly dying myth in Canada that ours is a land of virtually inexhaustible wilderness, that beyond the thin strip where our relatively small population cleaves to the American border, there exists a vast expanse of untouched, unspoiled wilderness. The reality, of course, is that there is hardly a corner of our country that is not being exploited for one or another of its extractable resources, be it minerals, forests, or power. Balancing the death of this myth is the gradual growth of a broadly based awareness of the importance — the necessity, even — of preserving what true wilderness does remain to us. The scientific community increasingly recognizes the need to study the complex relationships within natural environments to better understand the operations of systems that are the context of human life. Humanistic philosophers preach that preservation is integral to our humanity, that experiencing the physical beauty and the rich diversity of life in the world is a necessary human activity.

In Islands at the Edge, the Islands Protection Society has focused this awareness on its campaign to establish the South Moresby Wilderness in the Queen Charlotte Islands off the coast of British Columbia. A brief foreword by Jacques Cousteau provides a general statement of the need to preserve wilderness areas and the challenge which that need presents to human societies throughout the world. What follows is an orderly presentation of the natural attributes of the Queen Charlottes: the unique species of plants and animals, the geology, the climate. And in parallel presentation are the threats to each which persist as long as the plan to preserve South Moresby is held in abeyance. How can salmon spawn in creeks that are filled in by landslides precipitated by clean-cut logging? How can colonies of seabirds thrive when the seas adjacent to their colonies are over-harvested by commercial fisheries? How can the delicate balance among all life on the islands survive the impact of uncontrolled human intrusion?

These questions are addressed in the final part of the book, called “The Movement.” This section outlines the political fight waged by the Society to have the South Moresby Wilderness proclaimed — a fight most notably against a rapacious forest products industry and a slow-moving provincial government that seems most concerned with finding short-term solutions in a declining resource-based economy.

It must be remembered that this is a work of political advocacy. The bad guys are painted very black. The choice between good and evil is very clear. Little acknowledgement is made of how difficult political decisions in this area can be — choosing between preservation and employment, for example. Bill Reid’s account, in his chapter “These Shining Islands,” of the course of Western civilization might be entertaining to the convinced and committed conservationist, but it is hardly the stuff with which to convert capitalists, conservative politicians, or trade unionists.

Ironically, it is this same chapter that sympathetically presents the historical and cultural investment of the Haida people in these islands, and that argues reasonably and well for other Canadians to respect the depth of attachment between these people and this place.

Despite the negative comment above, Islands at the Edge is a successful book. It brings the issue of preservation in the Queen Charlottes to a wide audience, and it does so beautifully and clearly. It is well organized, and the quality of reproduction of the numerous colour illustrations is high throughout.

It should prove to be a valuable contribution to the natural history of this country, as well as to the movement to conserve our natural environment.