Buorre beaivi.

Welcome to Sápmi, to Riddu Riđđu and to this Indigenous River Peoples Seminar: The Spirit of the Rivers. Welcome to Elders, knowledge holders, representatives of Indigenous Peoples, friends and guests. Thank you to the organisers, and thank you to Niillas Holmberg, Harald Gaski and Matthew Patles for opening this gathering through Deanu luohti and ceremony.

That is a meaningful way to begin. Because today we are not only gathered for a seminar.

We are gathered for a program of sharing, conversation and dialogue between Indigenous River Peoples from different rivers, territories, languages and traditions.

We are gathered around relationships: between Peoples, between generations, between rivers, salmon, lands and waters, and relationships between knowledge, responsibility, rights and identity.

We meet here with different experiences from rivers across Kamchatka, the Columbia River, British Columbia, Unama’ki and Sápmi. But I believe many of us will recognise something in each other today.

My name is Muden-Ovllá Pier-Erkke Jovnna – Jon-Christer Mudenia, and I represent the Norwegian Sámi parliament council. I’m from Deatnu – Tana, where we have Europes greatest river, in my humble opinion. No bias from me. I am a river Sámi.

The river I grew up with, and the river I still live besides, has great meaning for how I, my family and our community understand ourselves.

I remember from my youth that my father used to take me in the riverboat, where I would be watching him fish, and we could fish for hours. Usually, I would fall asleep in the boat, while my father continued fishing. And when I woke up, there would usually be some salmon in the boat.

The past years we have had a fishing ban in our river, and it is no secret it has affected all of us who have grown up by the river. You can see sadness in many peoples eyes when the ice breaks and the river start to flow. People would usually start to prepare for the fishing season, but now it is painful reminder of what used to be. My elder uncle told me before he passed: “Remember, we have never given up our rights to the river”. Those were the last words he told me before his passing.

I have come to understand that this is typical not only for us as Sámi people, but also for many other Indigenous Peoples.

Last year, in the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Concerning the Sámi People in Finland, the following question is expressed very directly:

“What is Deatnu without the river Sámi fishing culture?”

For me, this question goes to the heart of why we are gathered here. Because Deatnu is not only water flowing through a valley. Deatnu is also the people, the salmon, the knowledge, the language, the stories, the boats, the fishing places and the responsibilities connected to the river.

If the fishing culture disappears, Deatnu does not disappear from the map.

But something essential is lost. When fishing practices disappear, more than a harvest is lost. We risk losing language. We risk losing knowledge. We risk weakening the connection between generations. And we risk losing part of what makes river Sámi culture what it is.

The fishing ban in Deatnu river has been in place for 6 years now, and we can see tendencies of loosing your knowledge and traditions. I can speak for myself, and I can feel that words and phrases that were common in speech, have come to be a struggle to remember at this very moment in time. And my thoughts go to the children who have grown up by the Deatnu river and never been able to experience or learn our language by the river and traditions.

This program also raises larger questions about Indigenous River Peoples’ Rights.

How can Indigenous River Peoples work to take care of our home rivers? How can we further the rights of both rivers and people through international cooperation? And how can we make governments listen and take action?

These are important questions.

They are about whether river-based Indigenous cultures can continue. They are about whether children will be able to learn on the river, with the river, and from the people who carry river knowledge. They are about stewardship, responsibility and self-determination.

Before I close, I would like to say a few words about the Kárášjohka Declaration.

The idea of developing such a declaration was first discussed during the first international gathering of Indigenous Salmon Peoples, held on the lands of the Musqueam people in Vancouver, British Columbia, in 2022.

That gathering brought together Indigenous representatives from around the Northern Hemisphere to celebrate their connection with salmon and share perspectives on Indigenous engagement in salmon management systems. It was also about reaffirming

Indigenous rights and strengthening Indigenous roles in salmon management at international and national levels.

The declaration then found its final form during the second international gathering, here in Sápmi, in Kárášjohka, in 2024.

At the third gathering, held on one of the self-governed territories of the Stó:lō people in the Fraser Valley of British Columbia, discussions continued on how the declaration can be shared more widely, and how Indigenous participation in the stewardship of salmon habitats across the Northern Hemisphere can be strengthened.

The declaration is short, but it carries important principles.

It speaks about:

· connection and reciprocity between Indigenous Peoples, Salmon and Waters

· the need to protect whole ecosystems and habitats

· Indigenous rights, responsibilities and jurisdiction

· Indigenous knowledge and governance

· stewardship

· and the connection between Salmon, health and wellbeing

It reminds us that Salmon cannot be protected by regulating fishing alone. It also reminds us that responsibility and authority must go together. Indigenous Peoples cannot be expected to protect rivers while being excluded from decisions about them.

And Indigenous Knowledge must not be something added at the end of a process.

It must help shape the questions, the priorities and the decisions.

I would like to read one passage from the declaration:

“We, as Indigenous Salmon Peoples, declare that we are the rightful stewards of the lands, waters, and Salmon for the prosperity of Salmon themselves, our current generation, future Indigenous Salmon Peoples and all those who benefit from the health of Salmon.”

That sentence says a great deal. It says that stewardship is not only about management. It is about responsibility. It is about future generations. It is about Salmon themselves. And it is about all those who benefit when Salmon are healthy.

Another central message of the declaration is simple and powerful:

When Salmon are healthy, Indigenous Salmon Peoples are healthy.

Tells a lot about the meaning of salmon to the indigenous people.

It is about food and language. Mental, physical and cultural wellbeing. Children learning from older generations. Whether our cultures can continue as living river cultures.

The declaration can be endorsed by individuals. It can also be formally endorsed by Indigenous governments, Nations, communities, institutions and organizations.

I encourage everyone to read it, discuss it and consider endorsing it — either personally, or on behalf of an institution or organization where that is possible.

But endorsement is only the beginning. The principles must be brought back to our own rivers, our own institutions and our own decisions. They must guide action.

Today, and in the days ahead, we will hear many voices. We will hear from different rivers, different Peoples and different experiences. We will share, converse and discuss.

We will also speak about the spirit of rivers. And we should listen for the voices of the rivers themselves. What are they telling us through warmer waters, changing ecosystems and declining salmon populations? What responsibilities are they asking us to take?

We are not gathered here only to speak about loss.

We are here to build relationships. To strengthen solidarity. To learn from each other. And we are here to speak about responsibility, hope and action.

When Salmon return, people return to the river. Knowledge returns. Language returns.

Stories return. Relationships between generations are renewed. I hope today’s conversations will help us take another step in that direction. Thank you to the organisers, speakers and all participants. I wish you a meaningful and productive gathering.

Giitu. Thank you.