Logging operations on southwest Vancouver Island were halted about two months ago when approximately 20 forest defenders blocked a road, preventing a logging truck from reaching ancient old-growth trees. Activists camped in tents and vehicles, with one truck parked sideways across the road, forcing the logging company to turn back before dawn. This direct action underscores the ongoing struggle against capital's relentless drive to extract profit from the region's last remaining carbon-rich ecosystems.
Bill Jones, an 86-year-old Pacheedaht elder, described the devastation he has witnessed. "There’s nothing left — it’s practically naked, bare," he stated, having observed the forests on his nation's territory disappear for most of his adult life. Jones, who began logging at age 18, now fights to preserve what little remains, lamenting, "We’re just fighting over the leftovers."
The Price of Extraction
The conflict centers on some of Earth's rarest and most carbon-rich ecosystems. Coastal temperate rainforests cover less than one percent of the planet's land surface. Vancouver Island's remaining stands, some featuring thousand-year-old trees, store more carbon per hectare than almost any other forest system, according to the Sierra Club of British Columbia. Industrial logging, which began more than a century ago, has already cleared most of the island's productive old-growth forests. Only about 20% of these forests remain, with the majority still designated for logging.
Old-growth western red cedar, defined by the province as trees 250 years or older, commands significantly higher prices due to its durability and rot-resistance. This high-value timber is widely used in construction, with the United States remaining a major export market despite tariffs. Second-growth forests, which regenerated after earlier logging, produce less-durable wood products, offering lower returns for capital. While the province claims over 11 million hectares of old growth persist, scientists report only about 415,000 hectares of productive old growth capable of growing the largest trees.
British Columbia's forests minister, Ravi Parmar, defended the industry, stating, "Forestry is the foundation of our economy." He claimed it provides "about 100,000 direct and indirect" jobs. Parmar warned that shutting down all old-growth harvesting "would shut down our sector completely on day one," revealing the industry's dependence on continued extraction. The industry also faces pressure from U.S. tariffs on Canadian softwood lumber, which now exceed 45%.
The State's Role and Resistance
The province asserts it has deferred or protected 2.4 million hectares of old growth since 2021, about 5 years ago. However, critics argue most of these measures are temporary, and some deferred areas continue to be logged. Simultaneously, British Columbia Premier David Eby's government has pledged to increase timber harvests in an effort to revitalize the forestry sector. Opponents contend these goals are fundamentally incompatible.
Parmar insisted the transition away from old-growth logging cannot happen overnight. He cited deferrals and investments in second-growth hemlock milling as evidence of a shift. Yet, the ongoing logging and pledges to increase harvests demonstrate the state's primary function in managing contradictions while preserving capital accumulation. In the Walbran Valley, also on Pacheedaht territory, logging by Tsawak-qin Forestry, co-owned by the Huu-ay-aht First Nation and Western Forest Products, has exposed internal tensions within Indigenous communities over economic development versus conservation.
This struggle echoes past conflicts. During the Timber Wars of about 3 to 4 decades ago, activists across California, Oregon, and Washington occupied redwoods and blockaded roads. More than 850 people were arrested during the 1993 "War in the Woods" protests at Clayoquot Sound, 33 years ago. Nearly 30 years later, about 3 years ago, over 1,100 were arrested at Fairy Creek, where blockades secured temporary protections now set to expire later this year. Forest ecologist Andy MacKinnon emphasized that once an old-growth forest is logged, it requires "millennia" to recover its structure, composition, and function, if recovery is even possible in a changing climate. Veronika Sitar, an outdoor enthusiast, documents old-growth stands before loggers reach them, finding flagging tape for a proposed logging road just 200 feet from a massive yellow cedar. She stated, "I don’t want to get too attached knowing what will be logged."
Word of new logging plans on Ditidaht First Nation territory to the north has spread among the blockaders. They are now working to connect with local land defenders, continuing the fight for what Bill Jones calls "the leftovers."