NORTHEAST TOWN—The wind does not rest on Manitoulin, and neither do those who speak for the land.
On May 22, inside the chambers of the Town of Northeastern Manitoulin Islands (NEMI) council, Dr. Janice Mitchell of Tehkummah rose once more to delegate. Her voice steady, she was the latest front in a battle that has surged from roadside ditches to courtroom doors: a grassroots campaign against glyphosate, Canada’s most widely used herbicide.
It was the third time this spring that Dr. Mitchell and Little Current resident Zak Nicholls stood before elected officials, asking for transparency, accountability, and ultimately, a shift away from reliance on chemicals to manage nature. They asked for the township to declare itself an unwilling host for glyphosate.
But in council chambers across Manitoulin, that’s proven to be a hard sell.
Earlier this year, Dr. Mitchell spoke to Tehkummah council. Last year, Mr. Nicholls proposed a motion to the Manitoulin Municipal Association (MMA). In March, that motion to reject glyphosate was voted down by the majority of municipal leaders. That defeat appears not to have quieted local conservationists but rather sharpen their resolve.
“While Health Canada and other regulators claim glyphosate is safe,” Dr. Mitchell told NEMI council, “there are compelling counterpoints.” She cited hundreds of peer-reviewed studies, including a 2019 meta-analysis linking glyphosate to non-Hodgkin lymphoma. She also brought her own beekeeping story into the room. Glyphosate had been detected three times in her hives. “I’m no longer keeping bees,” she said. “I can’t do it in this environment.”
Dr. Mitchell’s words joined a larger tapestry of local concern. Around the Island, glyphosate has become a lightning rod. Some defend its utility: efficient, predictable, good for crop yield. But others point to what’s breaking down—pollinators, birds, community trust.
In the end, the motion brought by Mr. Nicholls—asking NEMI to reject glyphosate and Garlon being sprayed by the MTO and Hydro One in the municipality—was defeated in a 6-2 vote. But that wasn’t the end of the conversation. It may have been the beginning of a more informed one.
A Council Divided, But Listening
In the discussion that followed, NEMI council passed its own motion. The resolution affirms support for the controlled application of herbicides on municipal property—but only when done by trained staff and following label instructions. Importantly, the motion was amended to state that herbicide use should be considered only when no other reasonable options exist.
“We’re not just going to go straight to spraying if there are other effective alternatives,” said Councillor Laurie Cook. Others echoed the call for clarity, noting that an earlier council motion from 2017 had caused confusion.
“Someone came to me afterward and said, ‘Council said you’re not allowed to use it’,” said one councillor. “But that’s not what the motion said—it simply meant we were taking no official stance. What we want now is clarity.”
The council also agreed to ensure public signage will be posted when the township themselves sprayed the substance. “If we haven’t been posting signs, we will,” confirmed CAO Dave Williamson.
For Mr. Nicholls, who had pressed hard for a precautionary approach, the outcome wasn’t a victory—but it wasn’t defeat either. “I felt like they acknowledged there was concern,” he said. “So, you know, I felt pretty good about that.”
The Legal Earthquake Beneath the Grass
Behind the quiet cadence of council motions, a louder legal storm is gathering. In January, the Ontario Superior Court agreed to hear a $1.2 billion lawsuit filed by the Ontario Centre for Health Science and Law (OHSL) against Bayer, the maker of Roundup. The case, based on more than 17,000 pages of evidence, alleges negligence and harm linked to glyphosate exposure. While unproven in court, the claim was deemed substantial enough to proceed.
Bayer, predictably, dismissed the proceedings as procedural.
But the court’s decision to allow the case signals what some see as a crack in the regulatory edifice. That crack widened further in March, when a federal court judge ruled that Health Canada’s 2022 reapproval of glyphosate was “unreasonable.” The agency had failed to consider 61 new scientific studies submitted by environmental groups. The ruling gave Health Canada six months to revisit its decision. As of now, glyphosate remains approved until 2032.
“Fifteen years is a long time,” Dr. Mitchell told council. “Thalidomide caused devastation in four. DDT lingered for decades. Glyphosate won’t be reevaluated for another seven years.”
Mr. Nicholls put it more bluntly: “A Supreme Court judge has said that PMRA (Pest Management Regulation Authority) and Health Canada have failed to adequately review the science on glyphosate. They have until August. It’s not just activists questioning this anymore. Even the courts are saying these approvals are too rubber-stamped.”
Inside the Debate: Bees, Beliefs and the Burden of Proof
If Dr. Mitchell’s appeal was grounded in personal experience, Councillor Bruce Wood brought his own. “I lost half my bees,” he said. “But I think that’s because they were from warmer climates and didn’t know how to survive our winters. It’s got nothing to do with glyphosate—or whatever it’s called.”
He pointed instead to issues of imported bees, disease transmission and adaptability—a view echoed by other councillors who questioned whether glyphosate was truly the culprit.
Still, concern lingered. Councillor Bill Koehler described asking a local beekeeper what happened to her honey. “She told me all her bees had died off,” he said. “I can’t say for sure why, but I believe it had something to do with the cold, dull spring—and all the chemicals people are using.”
Councillor Patti Aelick captured the deeper institutional confusion: “Ontario says glyphosate poses unnecessary risk, especially to kids. Canada says it’s safe if used properly. So, which is it?”
Councillor Aelick also criticized Hydro One’s previous alternative to spraying, which used machinery that damaged the forest on Townline Road. “It’s worse than if they’d just sprayed,” she said. But she strongly supported public notification: “If I’m walking or biking, I should know if my area’s been sprayed. People deserve that right.”
Mr. Nichols recounted his own attempt to get answers in a phone call with The Expositor. “I spoke to the CAO after the meeting and asked, ‘where have you sprayed, how much, what product?’ And he said, ‘There’s no obligation to inform.’ That was frustrating.”
A Motion Rejected, A Dialogue Opened
A bright light emerged from Councillor Cook’s comments, Mr. Nicholls said. “She spoke about the need to explore alternatives. But unless municipalities start asking those corporations to change, it’s never going to happen.”
He also praised Councillor Koehler’s remarks: “He said something important—‘Let them prove this isn’t affecting us.’ That’s a good reversal of the burden of proof.”
While Mr. Nichols’ motion was defeated, he remains hopeful. “A positive takeaway—even though the motion didn’t pass—is that this experience might help other municipalities. Hydro does its spraying on an eight-year cycle. Other parts of the Island are probably next. This gives those councils time to prepare, to think through the arguments, and maybe take a stand.”
A Global Problem with Local Roots
Germany, Austria, France, the Netherlands and Belgium have taken steps to restrict or ban glyphosate. Canada, by contrast, remains mired in regulatory limbo.
Sustainability expert Lorraine Smith—interviewed for a previous Expositor article—described glyphosate as “the canary in a chemical coal mine.”
“We keep asking, ‘How will we feed the world without chemicals?’ But the better question is: How will we feed the world without pollinators?”
Ms. Smith emphasized that even bans can become symbolic without deeper change. “Unless we dismantle the economic incentives that keep harmful chemicals in circulation, we’re just pushing the problem around.”
Back in the NEMI chambers, Dr. Mitchell left her notes behind when she exited the meeting. Her delegation was short—cut for time—but the silence afterward was not empty. It was full of slow reckoning.
