No abstract

Ecologists, social scientists, and policymakers alike define "resilience" as the properties that allow complex systems to function in the wake of sudden shocks. While proponents treat these properties as empirical qualities that can be engineered into existence, critics have largely treated government-organized attempts to do so as consistent with the dismantling of the welfare state. This article offers an ethnographic account of a conservation policy initiative in northwest British Columbia designed to generate consensus-based quantitative indicators on salmon health. I examine how workshop organizers, emboldened by provocative metaphors of survival and systematicity, mobilize resilience discourse as a platform for social analysis, and urge other researchers to envision how their own work might allow them to transcend institutional attachments altogether. Resilience-based initiatives have wrought profound changes in experts' everyday lives, in part by encouraging precariously employed researchers to reimagine their relationships to shrinking government institutions. In addition to naming an emergent political logic for legitimating downsizing and other organizational responses to disasters, I argue that resilience discourse provides the experts entrusted with designing these responses with new grammars for imagining the future viability of their own expertise.

In British Columbia, Canada, aging forestry scientists struggle to pass on long-term projects to younger colleagues who may never arrive. Thanks to the government of British Columbia's radical downsizing of its forestry research institutions, many of these scientists have been forced to reconceptualize the meaning of "succession." Central to this process are computer-based simulations of forest change, which have become critical sites of relationality for scientists struggling to sustain key experiments and their attending intellectual legacies. Digital simulations have increasingly come to mediate the expectations and shared dependencies that constitute scientific authorship. As a result, contemporary processes of institutional reproduction can depend less on deliberate enactments of agency than on subtler processes of detachment. To have their epistemic authority recognized by funders, apprentices, and collaborators, aging scientists must increasingly foreground their vulnerabilities and prepare for the possibility of their own erasure. [expertise, aging, simulation, forestry, environmental science,

The dismantling of government research throughout rural North America has altered the ways environmental scientists understand their ties to rural places like northwest British Columbia. As growing numbers of researchers have leveraged their professional mobility to move to small mountain towns and other rural locales—a process known as “amenity migration”—many have increasingly described their role in these transformations through idioms of personal commitment and individual expertise. At times, these articulations have overshadowed other migratory strategies enacted in response to the neoliberalization of resource extraction and environmental governance in the region, including those of First Nations technicians and blue collar workers in extractive industries. The kinds of jobs that draw experts to live and work in places like northwest British Columbia have shifted away from full‐time government positions into consulting and contract work. In the process, researchers’ growing tendency to present their movements as intentional processes has obscured the ways neoliberal reform redistributes compulsion and choice among residents of the new rural north.

This article explores the place of the archive in the context of land claims research. This essay develops a critical approach to identity technopolitics with the aim of helping historians working with indigenous communities to ask new kinds of questions about the relationships and subject positions opened up by archivization and the myriad other technologies of land claims research. Since researchers first began preparing for the Canadian case, Delgamuukw’ and Gisday'wa v. The Queen, four decades ago, the immense stores of documentary evidence generated for the trial have given ground to numerous new claims and conflicts. Tracing the experiences of one prominent Gitxsan historical researcher who has leveraged his own archive and expertise to build genealogies for hundreds of individuals, I explore the intimate disappointments and impossible obligations that indigenous historians must mediate.