In a Québec watershed, a student documents the transformation of territories of life into toxic dumping grounds — and back.
Alex DePani
The Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) community of Kahnawà:ke restored Tekakwitha Island and its bay, once considered sacrificial against the First Nation’s wishes, for the benefit of residents. This sets an example for local initiatives elsewhere. Photo: Alex DePani
The Chateauguay River watershed is a transboundary water catchment area, draining rainwater and snowmelt from the high peaks of the Adirondack Mountains in New York State to the flat, fertile lands extending to the St. Lawrence River in Québec. This territory was once under the custodianship of the Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) people, where relations of reciprocity between human and non-human actors thrived in a local economy. Fishing, hunting, and gardening were practiced on communally owned land, where everybody was expected to work together for the benefit of the group.
With the arrival of the European settlers, however, the impact of diseases, the turmoil of wars, and the subsequent harnessing of production capabilities following the Second Industrial Revolution brought about profound changes, reshaping not only the demographic of the watershed but also its custodians’ perception of their relationship with the land. Recognized Indigenous territory has steadily dwindled, replaced by a mix of state-protected forest, industrial agricultural land, and sacrifice zones, where backfilling and burial of waste material is undertaken with little consideration for the livelihoods of the watershed’s residents.
These sacrifice zones, most often violating environmental regulations and garnering little public attention, have imposed great stress on the local communities unfortunate enough to be in their vicinity.
These sacrifice zones, most often violating environmental regulations and garnering little public attention, have imposed great stress on the local communities.
Centralized government allowed the development of one particularly notorious sacrifice zone in the watershed from as early as 1968. That year, Québec’s environment ministry approved the disposal of 170,000 cu m of oils and other toxic products from various industrial activities in an old quarry in the municipality of Mercier, a town fifteen kilometers southwest of Montréal. The risk of letting Lasalle Oil Carriers Inc., a private company with property rights to the quarry, dispose of such hazardous waste material was underestimated. The underlying geological structure was more permeable than previously anticipated, resulting in the gradual contamination of groundwater over thirty square kilometers throughout the following decade. To this day, the aquifer under the quarry remains contaminated. Local community members living around the contaminated property are now shouldering the financial burden of its owner’s gross negligence, facing a substantial increase in the cost of securing clean drinking water.
Satellite imagery of the Mercier lagoons. Left: 2013. The lagoons 36 years after their contamination by Lasalle Oil Carriers. Right: 2023. Although the site remains contaminated, a groundwater pumping and treatment plant prevents downstream contamination. Photos: Google Earth Pro
Another example of a sacrifice zone can be found at Le Rocher, one of the watershed’s highest groundwater recharge areas. Subsequent property owners utilized the land as a massive dumping ground. Throughout the decades, substantial quantities of tires and construction-derived contaminated soils have been stored and backfilled with little regard to the very real impact that such activity could have on surrounding community members. As of July 2020, it was estimated that contaminated soils covered approximately 27,000 cu m at Le Rocher. Concerns arise due to increased fire hazards from heat-retaining tires, reduced groundwater recharge rates from backfilling, and the potential for groundwater contamination caused by pollutants within the imported waste.
Satellite imagery of Le Rocher. Left: 2007. Le Rocher, an important groundwater recharge area, has been used as a massive landfill for tires. It is well concealed by a thick layer of trees off the Route 201 highway. Right: 2018. Although tires have been removed, the site now serves as an illegal dumping ground for construction-derived contaminated soils. Photos: Google Earth Pro
While Québec authorities have documented some significant cases of illegal waste disposal sites, these instances most likely only scratch the surface of the true scale of sacrifice zones in the watershed. During an investigation, Québec’s provincial police seized, over several years, 4,711 fake weighing vouchers of trucks transporting contaminated soil. These falsified documents, claiming that soils were being disposed of in authorized locations, allowed construction-derived contaminated soils to vanish off the legal system’s radar. Often, they ended up in remote rural areas, including the Chateauguay River watershed.
Three satellite images of a wetland located on the private property in Hinchinbrooke, Québec. Top: 2012. Relatively undisturbed wetlands. Middle: 2014. Waste materials, including asphalt, sealant, and plastic, were found over a surface of approximately 9,000 sq m. Bottom: 2018. Backfilled material concealed behind a dense tree canopy and overgrown by vegetation. Wetlands have been backfilled by construction-derived contaminated soil and are no longer visible on the property. Photos: Google Earth Pro
As revealed by satellite imagery, illegal dump sites on private properties are frequently concealed from public view, hidden behind dense tree canopies, and far from the few roads that traverse these rural regions of the watershed. Waste material could also be mixed or covered with clean soil, making it difficult to confirm the potential contamination of a site once it has been located. Understaffed and underfunded, centralized environmental authorities face an uphill battle in dissuading property owners from converting their land into such sacrifice zones. As seeping contaminants slowly and subtly make their way deeper through the sedimentary layers, shared groundwater resources in the watershed face a potentially substantial threat.
Left: Contaminated backfill stretches over a terrain the size of multiple football fields. Right: Wheel loader parked on the Route 201 site, which is backfilled with contaminated soils. Such equipment is typically used for clearing and leveling terrain. Photos: Anonymous community member
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Dump trucks at Rang Dumas, just 3 km away from the massive dump site along Route 201, bringing what toxicology reports later revealed to be soils contaminated with hazardous pollutants that put groundwater quality at risk. Municipal wells for Ormstown, the neighboring municipality, are only a few hundred meters from the contaminated site. Photos: Anonymous community member
Community members within the watershed seem to have lost touch not only with their role in sustaining the ecological balance but also with the sense of responsibility that they hold toward one another. Indeed, while it may only be a minority of community members who burden the group by accepting contaminated soils and waste on their property, it is the majority who remains disconnected from community politics. According to Dan Garand, a concerned resident of Franklin — the municipality burdened by the massive dump site at Le Rocher — there are typically no more than ten attendees at the monthly town meetings, despite a local population of over 1,600 people. This remains the case, even as thousands of trucks continue to dump unknown materials at Le Rocher.
Applying a territories-of-life approach to managing shared resources in the Chateauguay River watershed may provide an attractive alternative.
Applying a territories-of-life approach to managing shared resources in the Chateauguay River watershed may provide an attractive alternative for citizens and municipalities seeking to safeguard their water. Transferring waste management and land-use regulation from the provincial level to the watershed level in Québec is legally viable. This change could allow affected municipalities to better address noncompliance and encourage community involvement in resource protection by ensuring local institutions have more control and are not hindered by inefficient centralized bodies.
Bottom-up projects that repurpose prior sacrifice zones for the benefit of local communities are indeed possible within the watershed, as exemplified by the restoration of Tekakwitha Island in the St. Lawrence River done by the Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) community of Kahnawà:ke. The construction of the St. Lawrence Seaway in 1959 replaced the natural waterway near the Indigenous community’s shoreline with a seaway designed for international ship passage. The Kahnawà:ke Environmental Protection Office observed a disruption of the natural balance along the water banks; water stagnation led to the accumulation of nutrient-laden sediments in the bay. Species disappeared and swimming became hazardous. High levels of phosphorus and biological oxygen demand could be measured in the bay’s water. What was once a recreational area became a locally undesired sacrifice zone to the benefit of international commerce.
Bottom-up projects that repurpose prior sacrifice zones for the benefit of local communities are indeed possible.
In recent years, community-driven efforts led to the partial restoration of the waterway. Invasive plant species were replaced with diverse native specimens, sediments were dredged, and natural access points to the water were restored. This not only revitalized the natural habitat but also provided opportunities for people to swim and paddle once more. While the bay may be permanently changed by the seaway’s construction, community-led shoreline management allowed local stakeholders to collaboratively change their immediate environment, significantly improving local livelihoods.
Community members throughout the watershed might find inspiration in these initiatives to strengthen their connection to the land, the ecological functions it supports, and their sense of community belonging. Such projects could protect water quality, generate institutions with local accountability, and create long-lasting territories of life benefitting all within the watershed.
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Satellite imagery of Tekakwitha Island. Left: 2012. Material excavated during the construction of the St. Lawrence Seaway was stored between the smaller islands, effectively creating a single large island and resulting in a disruption of ecological balance. Right: 2022. Following the Kanien’kehá:ka community-led restoration initiative, the local ecosystem has been rejuvenated: water currents returned to the bay and bank swallows and turtles reestablished nests along the shoreline. Photos: Google Earth Pro
The newly constructed beach on Tekakwitha Island provides community members with the opportunity to swim in the now-clean waters as a result of their restoration efforts. Photo: Alex DePani
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Alex DePani is an economics major at McGill University now pursuing graduate studies in environment and sustainability at the University of Montréal. He is researching unauthorized disposal of construction-derived contaminated soil in Québec, with a focus on the Haut-Saint-Laurent region in the Chateauguay River watershed.
