This post is part of a series on the SEEKCommons project; read the Introduction to the series to learn more.
On a cool autumn day in Vancouver, I took my car, a warm coffee tumbler in hand, and drove into the woods to witness the return of salmon to their spawning grounds. I followed highways and dirt roads to the Adams River, where dense forest meets fast-moving water. I was there for the Salute to the Sockeye—a festival that gathers people from all walks of life every four years, when sockeye salmon are returning in the largest numbers of their four-year life cycle. Every year, salmon return after spending two to three years in the ocean navigating past rocks, hungry bears, eagles, fishing hooks, and even waterfalls. They push forward bit by bit, against the odds, to reach the precise place they were born where they spawn and die. Scientists don’t fully understand how salmon navigate this long, upstream journey, but we know they rely on subtle cues from the earth’s magnetic fields and the river’s chemistry to guide them home.
Many Indigenous communities mark the return of the salmon, and the Salute to the Sockeye celebrated the relationship between the Secwepemc peoples and the Adams River sockeye (sqleltenuw̓i) with storytelling, song, and fire-grilled salmon burgers (Arnouse et al., 2024). I joined the throng of people crowding the riverbanks to see flashes of red amid the blue. Some of the people in the crowd were Secwepemc guides, some parents with small children, some government officials. I was there as a Research Assistant on a large study which used genomics—a field of science that studies the DNA of organisms to understand how genes influence traits—to help protect Pacific salmon. I attended many salmon-related events to meet people from diverse communities and learn about why they care about salmon and what they think of some of these new scientific tools that are being developed.
Salmon hold enormous significance in the Pacific Northwest, both for the environments they traverse and for the communities that depend on them. As they make their journey from spawning rivers to the ocean and back, salmon feed webs of wildlife, provide nutrients for the lush forests along the coast, and are integral to the culture and way of life for Indigenous communities who sustainably harvested, stewarded, and managed salmon for millennia prior to colonization. They are also important cultural and economic drivers of Canadian society, sustaining economic and recreational activities on the Pacific coast. Yet, Pacific salmon have also been experiencing what Taylor (1999) calls an “excruciatingly long disaster” (p. 4). Compared to historical averages, many salmon populations have seen continued declines, despite sustained public and political attention and billions spent on efforts to reverse these trends. As a result, salmon are the focus of intense conflicts over how they should be managed including whether more needs to be done to support or restrict fisheries, improve their habitats, or who is to blame for the decline of salmon populations (Nguyen et al. 2016).
The Salute to the Sockeye event (Image by Author)
At a time when public distrust in institutions is growing, especially toward institutions of science and government, a subset of research called “Open Science” is seen as a potential solution. Open science seeks to “open” the research process, making scientific findings more accessible and transparent to a wider audience (Sidler 2014). Ideally, this transparency should help to build trust, as scientists and communities can work together to address issues that matter to both (Grand et al., 2012). When trust is already built between scientists and communities, relationships can flow smoothly, of course with the occasional bumps. The salmon project I was part of was committed to open science practices, including making the genome they sequenced publicly available and ensuring the project’s outputs had utility for both researchers and communities affected by the loss of Pacific salmon.
But, just as salmon face physical barriers, scientists working toward open science face a challenging “current” of distrust that can be caused by layered histories of conflict, harm, and a lingering perception of science as disconnected from the communities that it seeks to benefit. Over the course of the study, our team conducted nearly 150 interviews with scientists, managers, fishers, and Indigenous groups involved in Pacific salmon management and conservation. What emerged through these interviews was a snapshot in time of deep rifts that have produced a lot of distrust between and among different sectors and communities.
What happens when scientists swim against the current of deeply entrenched distrust?
Obstacles Along the Way
When it comes to the relationship between science and society, the importance of trust is so often mentioned that it has become almost a cliché. Yet, for all of the concern about eroding trust in science, there has not been nearly as much research on what causes distrust, or how to navigate it (Erickson and Biedenweg, 2024). Open science might make data widely available, but if that study doesn’t take local histories and relationships into account, it may not resonate with or benefit those most affected by issues like environmental degradation or biodiversity loss. More importantly, without addressing the causes of distrust, simply “opening up” data and findings may exacerbate the deeper issues that communities have experienced such as marginalization from decision-making, unaddressed harms, and perceived biases in scientific research.
To understand how distrust affects the relationship between scientists and salmon-connected communities and organizations, I looked first at who people say they trust and distrust comparing references to individuals (e.g., a specific contact at an NGO), institutions (e.g., federal or state departments), science (e.g., genomic science), process (e.g., how decisions about fishing closures are made), and data (e.g., whether someone trusts the numbers of caught fish that are self-reported by other fishing sectors). In the interviews, distrust was most frequently directed at institutions, particularly the federal agency responsible for salmon management. Although trust was not explicitly asked about in the interviews, it emerged as a significant theme. This included instances where respondents, even those working within government agencies, expressed concerns about public distrust of their own departments.
Next, I looked at why people described feeling distrustful of others. The most common issue that people reported in the interviews was affinitive, or interpersonal distrust, such as perceiving others as not sharing the same values or connection to place. A moment during the Salute to the Sockeye cemented this feeling for some in the audience when a federal policymaker shared with the audience that they had just seen their first salmon. This admission shocked some in the audience because it signaled that people who make important decisions about the welfare of salmon are disconnected from the subjects of their care. This led an Indigenous elder to recount the story in an interview with me weeks later. He shared that many people were talking about how the comment felt, saying “Jesus, that was mind-boggling. So, they have to get out more, you know, because it’s not like every [federal agent] is dirty or is dishonest, some of them really care and some of them understand what’s going on.”
Distrust in process was another common refrain in interviews, with greater distrust in higher institutional scales (federal offices in Ottawa, the nation’s capital) than more local decision-making. Indigenous respondents expressed deep distrust rooted in the history of colonialism, particularly the historical denial of their rights to fish and manage salmon. This legacy of colonization has led to ongoing mistrust towards government processes that continue to marginalize Indigenous governance and knowledge in fisheries management. On the other hand, recreational and commercial fishers also voiced significant mistrust, particularly towards the federal fisheries department, which they felt was driven more by politics than science or the well-being of the fish and the communities that depend on them. Some described the department as untrustworthy because it engages in a “mix of activism and science,” using the objectivity of science as an outward face for closed-door political decisions that favor certain groups over others. This mistrust by recreational and commercial fishers was often directed specifically towards reconciliation efforts by the federal government and the shift towards recognizing Indigenous rights in salmon fishing and management.
There was widespread criticism about the way that data has been used to monitor and regulate salmon fisheries, undermining trust in numbers. Many argued that the government has systematically failed to adequately monitor salmon populations, particularly those that are not part of the large salmon rivers. Interviewees also noted prevalent biases against particular sources of information, which means that even if the information is true, it will be distrusted because of a distrust of the source. The strongest bias was against government, followed by industry and scientists who were perceived by some to be influenced by material or economic gains.
Lastly, context mattered to how interviewees perceived the trustworthiness of science and salmon management. Lingering animosity over past decisions to allocate fish to particular sectors, coupled with an increasingly scarce resource as their populations decrease, was described by respondents as a difficult environment in which to make collective decisions and trust that new technologies would not be used against them.
Building Trust in the Watershed
Interview results revealed two critical pathways for building trust in salmon conservation: personal relationships with key individuals and collaborative co-management forums.
Many respondents emphasized the importance of personal connections with specific individuals either from within their interest group or across different communities, noting that trust in individuals can persist even when distrust exists toward institutions. For example, community liaisons are people who work for the federal fisheries department in a role that has direct face-to-face interactions with communities at a local level. Community liaisons were frequently mentioned as being highly trusted due to their personal engagement with local communities. One interviewee described these relationships as “like family,” highlighting the role of familiarity in bridging institutional gaps. However, respondents pointed out that turnover within agencies disrupts these bonds, especially in politically charged contexts where trust is already fragile. As one commercial fisher explained, “if you know them it’s good, but if it’s someone new it’s hard. You really want to know someone when they have pull on you. It’s a trust thing.” To address this, some respondents suggested that facilitating introductions for new staff members could help sustain trust in the face of institutional turnover.
Interviewees also viewed co-management forums as essential for trust-building. In particular, salmon roundtables on Vancouver Island bring together Indigenous, government, and community participants to discuss local salmon management. Many participants praised the forums for their work to foster accountability and create a space for sustained dialogue. This included people who had participated in the roundtables and those who want to expand the model to their local context. One participant explained that the roundtables help build trust because “if you screw up, you’re going to have to tell me because I’m going to hold you accountable at the table. There’s no wiggling away… I have to sit across the table from you.” For many, these interactions allow for differing perspectives to be heard and help build trust over time, even when conflicts arise.
This situation is drastically different than it used to be. One participant highlighted the progress, noting, “I know full well that these people who now shake hands, or occasionally even give each other hugs upon seeing each other, used to be out in a field on boats or on shore, on the river, with guns as an intimidation tool. That’s huge.” This process of co-management contrasts with top-down approaches, as it emphasizes flexibility, mutual respect, and face-to-face interactions, which interviewees felt were vital to making conservation decisions trustworthy and sustainable.
Co-management spaces also provide valuable opportunities for scientists to engage with diverse communities, fostering dialogue that helps bridge gaps even when deep-rooted histories of distrust exist. Through our collaborative project on salmon conservation, we organized a series of workshops where lead scientists and early career researchers presented their genomic research directly to participants in co-management forums. These workshops were designed not just to share data but to create meaningful connections between the science and the local communities it aims to support, enabling scientists to not only share their findings but also to listen to and learn from local experts. By participating in such spaces, scientists can go beyond simply releasing a dataset, and demonstrate their commitment to understanding and addressing community concerns. Over time, this approach can help scientists navigate mistrust and build a foundation for research that supports more effective and equitable management decisions.
Reaching the Spawning Grounds Together
As I spent time by the river watching salmon finally reaching their spawning grounds, I marveled at their resilience, adaptation, and ability to find a path forward despite the difficulties. Similarly, the journey to building trust in science doesn’t mean overcoming every barrier in one go. It means navigating the currents together. In the effort to build trust in science, the complexities of distrust must be confronted. Open science practices alone are unlikely to address deeper issues of power and people’s past experiences with technology, particularly in times of increasing scarcity and uncertainty.
This means moving beyond a “one-size-fits-all” approach to open science. Trust isn’t just about publishing findings; it’s about forming relationships and understanding the social context. Knowledge held by diverse salmon-connected people, including Indigenous Knowledge and local fishing knowledge, offers insights that can help inform more holistic conservation strategies. When scientific and governing institutions are perceived as disconnected from the local context, or when these knowledge systems are sidelined or ignored, it can deepen existing distrust between communities and scientists, particularly in areas where historical injustices have already created fractures.
Trust-building spaces—such as co-management tables, or the Salute to the Sockeye—that bring together diverse people, including Indigenous communities and fishers, create openings for meaningful engagement, allowing participants to share their experiences and concerns and transforming science into a collaborative process that values local expertise even where conflict exists. Open science isn’t just about data—it’s about recognizing the people, their stories, and their knowledge as integral to the process of knowledge creation and decision-making. Just as salmon return to specific streams to spawn, science must be anchored in the relationships it fosters, acknowledging that the path to trust can be as winding and challenging as the river itself.
References
Arnouse, R., Secwepemc Nation, Harnett, K., Arnouse, J., Hoof, J. (2024). Salute to the Sockeye: Celebrating the Secwepemc-Salmon Relationship. Vancouver: BC Indigenous Salmon Conservation Council.
Grand, A., Wilkinson, C., Bultitude, K., & Winfield, A. F. (2012). Open science and public participation. Science Communication, 34(5), 679-689.
Sidler, M. (2014). Open science and community-based research. Journal of Science Communication, 13(4), A01.
Taylor III, J. E. (1999). Making Salmon: An Environmental History of the Northwest Fisheries Crisis. Seattle: University of Washington Press.
Nguyen, V. M., Young, N., Hinch, S. G., & Cooke, S. J. (2016). Getting past the blame game: convergence and divergence in perceived threats to salmon resources among anglers and indigenous fishers in Canada’s lower Fraser River. Ambio, 45, 591-601.
