Are climate activists heroes? Or are they terrorists?

This column is an opinion from climate activist Mark Simmons. For more information about CBC's Opinion section, please see the FAQ.

On Aug. 11, 2021, Jessica Reznicek self-reported to a U.S. federal prison to begin her eight-year sentence. Her crime? One count of conspiracy to damage an energy facility (to which Jessica had pleaded guilty), plus a domestic terrorism charge added by the judge during Jessica's sentencing to deter others from taking similar actions. 

You may not have heard of Jessica. I hadn't, until I saw a petition asking President Joe Biden and the U.S. Congress to repeal her terrorism charge. It was the petition's title that really caught my attention: "Protecting Water is Never Terrorism." 

It seemed hard to argue with that logic. Water is life. Water is essential. Everyone needs it to survive. How could protecting something that everyone needs be an act of terrorism? 

Terrorism is intimidation. Terrorism is death. Terrorism is destruction. As the FBI defines it, domestic terrorism is "violent, criminal acts committed by individuals and/or groups to further ideological goals stemming from domestic influences, such as those of a political, religious, social, racial, or environmental nature." 

So why was Jessica charged with domestic terrorism? Jessica is a land and water defender, someone who takes non-violent action to protect the environment against exploitative or destructive practices. Her crime was sabotaging construction equipment being used to build an oil pipeline, the Dakota Access Pipeline, in lowa. 

No one was injured by Jessica's actions, and she took them only after her numerous other attempts — including commenting at public hearings, leading calls for an environmental impact assessment, and participating in marches and rallies, boycotts and even hunger strikes — failed to stop the pipeline. Her actions resulted in a four-month delay in construction and millions of dollars in damage, and were considered violent enough for the court to deem her a terrorist. 

So why did she do it? Because she could no longer stand by and watch the river she grew up with, the Raccoon River in Des Moines, Iowa, be destroyed. When her many attempts at working within the system failed, she felt she had no choice but to take action against the system. 

As a climate activist, I've often thought about how far those of us who are fighting to save the planet will need to go to change denial, apathy and empty promises into acceptance, alarm and meaningful action. How do we force change when those who hold power are so resistant to it? 

This year, the water utility company that ensures that 500,000 people in Des Moines and surrounding areas have access to clean drinking water announced that they would begin drilling wells, at a cost of $30 million US, because the water from the Raccoon and Des Moines Rivers was no longer safe to drink. This is exactly the problem that Jessica had been trying to stop when she chose to sabotage the pipeline equipment. 

A similar story is currently playing out in Canada. 

At Fairy Creek, in the southern part of Vancouver Island, more than 1,100 Indigenous and non-Indigenous forest defenders have been arrested in what has become Canada's largest act of civil disobedience. 

Their crimes? At their heart, they're not that dissimilar from Jessica's. They used non-violent civil disobedience to try and protect the old-growth forests around Fairy Creek. 

The trees in these forests are estimated to range in age from 250 to 2,000 years old, are homes for many endangered species, and store more carbon per hectare per year than those in the Amazon rainforests. Teal Jones, the company looking to profit from cutting down these ancient wonders, is perfectly within its legal rights to do so. But as Jessica's case shows, what may be right legally isn't always what's best for the people that the law is meant to protect.