By Bernie Bates

Gay people give me the creeps. The way they walk, the way they talk, it’s just too, weird for words. They just go against the word of God.” I can’t believe I once uttered words like that, it makes me shutter to my core to think how ignorant I was. But, I at least I now know where it came from.

Prejudice feelings are a tutored emotion. My dad, a Native, was prejudiced against Africans, Orientals even ‘East’ Indians. He’d curl his lip at city folks, people with accents, but, the one group of scum that he and his friends detested the most were those: “damned fagots.” And of course I grew up to think just like him; I hated without reason or a second thought. And just like a real train – it took a long time to stop that train of thought. The reason I came to see people for what they where and not what they looked like was a very simple thing: communication. It was only after talking with these un-fit-folk, that I came to realize that they too, had feelings, dreams and love in their hearts.

Picture this scenario in your mind: two toddlers are placed in a room, one child is from Africa and the other child is from Canada. Now picture them as they’re playing, one child becomes aggressive and makes the other child cry. Which country is the aggressive child from and what color is that toddler? The truth is it could be either child, from either country. Do you see how easy it is for us to color even the most innocent of situations?

Do you know why most Nazi sympathizers are young? The answer is in the question itself: young. Unfortunately, youth, doesn’t take time to reason, just react. Their emotions rule their thinking processes – it’s like a polluted stream – it takes a long time before the water runs clear again. If you want your children to live a free and happy life, raise them to walk a mile in his moccasins before they judge.

The whole World is holding their breath as we’re about to find out whether or not the new president of the United States will be applauded like J.F.K. or assassinated like J.F.K.? Will a coward’s trigger finger once again postpone the tide of understanding? Acceptance and understanding reminds me of drinking and driving – it was once joked about in public, but now the subject is now met with disgust. Do you, personally, think that the World has matured enough to accept a person at face value, without bias? Personally, I carry hope in one pocket and caution in the other.

Now, back to the reason that first made me write this bit of nit-wit-lit: gay people and the way they walk and talk – “Oh, my stars!” They’re not the norm, nor are they one of us heterosexual – “For heaven’s sake.” You’ve heard these people, they’re so ‘gay’ with their oral communications. Most people have what’s become known as gay-dar, and can spot one a mile away. Has it occurred to you that maybe that’s how they can reach out of the closet in search of someone to love? After all, who among us doesn’t need love? Furthermore, I think it’s one of those basic human rights that a person is born with.

Can you believe that in this day and age there are still those who think that they are blessed with the right to deny other human beings their right to pursue happiness? If two people love one another and want to spend the rest of their lives together – it’s their damned business. If they want to be recognized by the state, with all appropriate benefits, under the protection of a marriage license, again, it’s their damned business!

“Hell’s bells!” If gay people want to get married, then I say: “I do.” But, they should also know the perils what goes along with that document of matrimony; divorce, lawyers, maintenance, alimony, even the custody of the family cat. If the gay at heart really want to be married, they should be aware that the bed of roses has thorns, too.

THE END

Dear reader: Please feel free to contact, B. H. Bates at: beeinthebonnet@shaw.ca

By Malcolm McColl

Kwakwaka’wakw carver Beau Dick recounted a couple of stories passed down by generations in relation to first contact with Europeans on the coast of the Pacific Northwest. One story describes the fate of the first domesticated feline, and another the chief’s reaction to a special custom of the British Navy.

The Spanish had sailed up the outside coast of the Pacific Northwest islands and archipelagos as early as the mid-1500s to begin conducting business, but the domestic cat did not make its first appearance at a Kwakwaka’wakw village until the in the mid-1700s. This nation of Houses, clans, and villages occupies the mainland, several islands in an archipelago, and the top of Vancouver Island on both sides. When the Spanish sailed up to one of the well-populated villages, they were immediately visited by the chief who greeted the ship’s captain with a cordial welcome to the Kwakwaka’wakw nation. At this first meeting, the chief saw a cat capering onboard the Spanish ship.

The Kwakwaka’wakw chief was enthralled with the unusual creature, and the animal was brought before the chief for his closer inspection. After playing with the cat for a spell, the chief believed it belonged to him. However, the Spanish captain’s devotion to his pet was enormous, and he refused to relinquish it. A couple of intrigues later, the Kwakwaka’wakw chief was in full possession of the cat.

The infuriated captain of the Spanish ship soon unleashed his cannons on the shore at the Kwaguilth community, blowing apart several war-canoes parked on the beach in front of the bighouses. Canoes were never in short supply in a Kwakwaka’wakw community, and a few minutes later a flotilla coursed toward the Spanish ship. The Kwaguilth surrounded the Spanish and returned the cannon balls. They began demanding that the Spanish perform this excellent feat once again. They were not, however, returning the cat.

The Spanish sailed away and left the chief in possession of the curious animal, and he announced a special event to be held in his bighouse. Soon a gathering of chiefs and important clan members and associates had been assembled and the stage was set to unveil the cat. The chief reached into a large cedar basket and grabbed the terrified cat and threw it some distance toward a wooden post where it stuck. Everybody ooh’d and aah’d while the cat did a couple of frantic loops and took off never to be seen again.

The Spanish spent a number of years exploring and mapping their explorations into the Kwakwaka’wakw nation. They left the territory with a legacy of sketches of people, villages, ship’s log entries, and a few Spanish place-names. Beau said the British Navy eventually began stopping around the territory, occasionally gunning the Spaniards out of the region and often stopping at the houses of the chiefs of Kwakwaka’wakw communities. Soon the Spanish were superseded by the British who also brought something new but very different than a cat.

The British had a custom of ending each occasion with the certain protocol of a shot of rum. At first the chiefs were intrigued, but not all were happy with the custom and some were offended by the British insistence at imposing the bitter tasting liquid on these special occasions. Indeed a large argument ensued among the chiefs about whether to allow the British to stay. The argument that prevailed was, “Ah, let them stay. What harm can it do?”

By Clint Buehler

HOBBEMA, AB – After 20 years of court battles and millions of dollars in legal fees, two First Nations here have lost their bid to reclaim $2 billion they say they lost through mismanagement of oil and gas royalties by the Department of Indian Affairs.

Their hopes for success were dealt a bitter blow when the Supreme Court of Canada rejected their arguments, as were the hopes of dozens of other First Nations collecting oil and gas royalties—managed by the Crown—from deposits on their reserve lands.

Samson community leader Roy Louis called it a devastating loss that made him feel nauseated.

The only hope left may be to take the case to the United Nations for international intervention

The Samson Cree Nation filed its first lawsuit in 1989, with the Ermineskin band launching a separate suit in 1992, both contending that the department’s policy of paying interest on royalties they held in trust for the band, rather than investing them in diversified and more lucrative investment vehicles, had cost them hundreds of millions of dollars.

The interest rate paid for the 90 years until 1969 varied between three and six percent. In 1969, the government changed its formula to tie the interest rate to the yield on government bonds.

The Samson band estimated it was owed between $239 million and $1.5 billion, while the Ermineskin band put the figure it was owed at between $156 million and $217 million.

Following a Federal Court decision in 2006, the Samson band gained control of $350 million in royalties previously managed by the Crown. It used the money to establish a trust fund which has earned much higher returns from its diversified investments than the government interest rate.

In its first fiscal year, the annual rate of return on that fund was nearly 12.9 percent, earning $41.2 million in 2006, while the government paid out only 4.3 percent on funds it managed over the same period.

According to James O’Reilly, one of the lawyers for the bands, the Supreme Court decision says the Indian Act takes precedence over the Treaties.

Mr. Justice Marshall Rothstein, in writing for the 7-0 majority, said “the language of Treaty 6 does not support an intention to impose on the Crown the duties of common law trustee.”

The Samson and Ermineskin bands signed into Treaty 6 in 1876. Under one of its terms, the federal Crown administers arrangements with companies who wish to exploit oil and gas reserves beneath reserve land. Under the Indian Act, the money derived from royalties was held in trust for them by the Crown.

The bands also alleged that the Crown was in a conflict of interest since it could use money held in trust for its own purposes, as part of the Consolidated Revenue Fund, yet paid out only a fixed, modest rate of interest to them. But the Supreme Court ruled the Crown was not unjustly enriched by making use of the bands’ royalties and paying the interest rate that it did.

Judge Rothstein wrote that the borrowing is required by the legislation, and a fiduciary that acts according to the legislation cannot be said to be breaching its fiduciary responsibility.

He also rejected the argument that the government should have transferred most of the money held in trust to the bands, allowing them to pursue their own investment strategies. He said the government would have to be confident that the band councils would be careful and prudent with the money, and that the current situation with the band councils—especially Samson—did not provide such confidence.

By Lloyd Dolha

In his seminal work, Native Children and the Child Welfare System, researcher Patrick Johnston coined the term “Sixties Scoop” to describe an alarming national phenomenon in which Status Indian children were taken from their homes and communities by provincial child welfare authorities to be placed in non-aboriginal foster homes for adoption. It is a term now deeply rooted in the Canadian political lexicon. In a 1983 report for the Canadian Council for Social Development, Johnston revealed a number of major factors that congealed in the 1960’s to facilitate the Sixties Scoop of aboriginal children across the nation.

In this chapter, we will examine the causal factors that underlie this alarming national trend, the current state of aboriginal child welfare, and the numerous First Nations initiatives that have emerged to combat this national tragedy. It is important to remind ourselves of these underlying causes because the negative effects of the Sixties Scoop live on today and are still being played out in the tragic stories of individuals in aboriginal communities and cities across Canada. Indeed, many would argue that the Sixties Scoop never ended and has instead increased in its intensity and scope.

As we have seen, the residential school experience was a devastating catastrophe for First Nations people. Thousands of aboriginal children were forced to attend these schools with the stated objective of cultural assimilation into the wider Canadian society. The residential school experience, in which physical and sexual abuse was common, left many Status Indians hostile and bitter. Aboriginal children placed in these schools often lost all meaningful contact with their families and communities.

The legacy of the residential school system had (and continues to have) profound negative impacts on aboriginal people. The loss of cultural values and self-esteem has clearly contributed to alcoholism, family breakdown, and violence. Alcoholism became rampant, in some cases consuming whole communities. Decades of forced assimilation into residential schools produced a widespread generational phenomenon among aboriginal children, their parents, and grandparents known as Residential School Syndrome (RSS).

It was in this context that provincial governments began to extend child welfare services to First Nations reserve communities across Canada through agreements reached with the federal government in the early and mid 1960’s. The move to extend these services was the result of major revisions to the Indian Act that were introduced in 1951. One of those changes was the addition of Section 88 of the Indian Act. Section 88 made provincial laws of “general application” that apply to all people (subject to certain restrictions) applicable to Status Indians on reserve in any province. Under the Canadian constitution, laws of general application such as child welfare legislation, fall under the jurisdiction of the provinces, while the federal government has the exclusive authority to enact legislation for “Indians and lands reserved for the Indians” under the jurisdiction of the Indian Act.

The Indian Act holds no provisions for the delivery of child welfare services, and while Canada has the constitutional authority to enact legislation on behalf of Status Indians, it has never chosen to do so. As an area of exclusive provincial responsibility, each of the ten provinces and two territories developed their own child welfare legislation with their own policies and methods for delivering those services.

The extension of child welfare and other social services on-reserve may have been seen as the most practical way of dealing with problems associated with life on Indian reserves in the 1960’s, and it may have been done with the best of intentions, but “little attention was paid to the effect that extending provincial services would have on Indian families and communities. Nor did there appear to be any concern that provincial services might not be compatible with the needs of Indian communities.”

Therein lies the heart of the problem that manifests itself even today. The major limitation of provincial jurisdiction is that as “laws of general application” the standards adopted under provincial legislation are necessarily standards required to serve the general population. Provincial legislatures of the day could not enact laws that specifically applied to the Indian population because that authority rested exclusively in the domain of the federal government. Thus, the special needs of Status Indian children could not be directly dealt with under existing provincial laws because Section 88 of the Indian Act relinquished the federal government from enacting specific First Nations child welfare legislation, despite the federal government’s constitutional responsibility for Status Indians. Johnston points out that as a result of the jurisdictional dispute, there has been a continual argument over which level of government has the legislative responsibility to provide child welfare services to First Nation reserves and who should pay for it.

The results of the expansion of provincial child welfare services were profound in their effects on aboriginal communities nationwide. Noting the scarcity of reliable data in the mid‑60’s, Johnston showed that in 1955, less than 1% of the children in the care of British Columbia’s child welfare branch were Status Indian children. By 1964, approximately 34 % of the children in care in B.C. were Status Indians. In other words, in less than ten years, the number of Status Indian children in B.C.’s child welfare system had jumped from almost zero to more than one-third—a pattern that was repeated in many other parts of Canada as well.

The actual term “Sixties Scoop” came from a long-time employee of the B.C. Ministry of Human Resources whom Johnston personally interviewed. This person “admitted that provincial social workers would, quite literally, scoop children from reserves on the slightest pretext. She also made it clear, however, that she and her colleagues sincerely believed that what they were doing was in the best interests of the children. They felt that the apprehension of Indian children from reserves would save them from the crushing poverty, unsanitary health conditions, poor housing, and malnutrition which were the facts of life on many reserves.”

According to Johnston, by the 1970’s Status Indian children represented between 40 and 50% of children taken into care in the province of Alberta. In Saskatchewan, they represented between 60 and 70% of the children in care, while in Manitoba, Status Indian children represented 50 to 60 % of the children in care. He estimated that nationally, Status Indian children were 4.5 times more likely than non-Indian children to be in the care of child welfare authorities. Rather than being an act of last resort, the apprehension of Indian children became the standard operating procedure.

In Manitoba, aboriginal people were increasingly disturbed by the removal of hundreds of their children in the Sixties Scoop. Statistics of the day revealed that in 1981 as many as 55% of aboriginal children in care were shipped out-of-province to the United States for adoption. By 1982, Manitoba was the only remaining province that allowed adoptions outside of Canada. In the face of emotionally-charged allegations by aboriginal leaders, the provincial government ordered an all-out stop to the practice of out-of-province adoptions and appointed Associate Chief Judge Edwin C. Kimelman of the provincial court’s family division, to lead an inquiry into the province’s child welfare system and its effect on aboriginal people.

In March 1982, Edwin Kimelman began hearings across the province about the phenomenon of the white adoption of aboriginal children from Manitoba First Nations. Kimelman reviewed 93 cases of adoption and found that no attempt had been made to secure aboriginal homes for aboriginal children. Over a period of 20 years, from the mid‑1960’s to the early 1980’s, Manitoba lost about 3,000 aboriginal children to white adoption. Kimelman concluded in his publication No Quiet Place: Review Committee on Indian and Métis Adoptions and Placements (1985) that “cultural genocide has taken place in a systematic and routine manner.” Kimelman further commented on the tendency of “social workers to make idealistic judgements about family functioning and [suggested that they] may view situations as neglect where no actual harm is likely to occur.” He said child welfare workers were “overzealous” in applying their authority, saying the workers were “well-intentioned, but misguided.”

Kimelman agreed with aboriginal leaders that their children were the victims of a policy of “wholesale exportation” to other provinces and the United States. He admitted, “It would be reassuring if blame could be laid to any single part of the system. The appalling reality is that everyone involved believed they were doing their best and stood firm in their belief that the system was working well … The miracle is that there were not more children lost in this system run by so many well-intentioned people. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, and the child welfare system was the contractor.”

The Kimelman report recommended sweeping changes to the province’s child welfare legislation so that the determination of the best interests of the child would include the consideration of “the child’s cultural and linguistic heritage.” The goal of child welfare, said Kimelman, should be to strengthen family ties, not to sever them. The Kimelman Report urged the province to make efforts to contact aboriginal children adopted out-of-province and offer them help in reconciling with their natural families and home communities

After the hearings concluded, Judge Kimelman stated, “When the Indian residential schools were operating, children were forcibly removed from their homes for the duration of the academic year. The children were punished if they used their own language, sang their own songs, or told their own stories. But at least under that system the children knew who their parents were, and they returned home for the summer months. With the closing of the residential schools, rather than providing the resources on reserves to build economic security and providing services to support responsible parenting, society found it easier and cheaper to remove the children from their homes and apparently fill the market demand for children in Canada and the U.S.”

According to the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP 1996), statistics from the Department of Indian Affairs revealed that a total of 11,132 Status Indian children were adopted out largely to white, middle-class families between 1960 and 1990. That number is believed to be a conservative figure because many aboriginal children were not recorded as Status Indians in adoption or foster care records, nor were many Status Indian children recorded as such after adoption. Of the thousands of aboriginal children placed in foster or adoptive care, RCAP estimates that about 70% of those were adopted into such homes.

In the early 1980’s, First Nations and tribal councils who sought more culturally appropriate approaches to aboriginal child welfare developed a number of models for child and family services agencies. In recognition of this, by 1990 Indian and Northern Affairs Canada (INAC) brought forth the national First Nations Child and Family Services program to fund First Nations Child and Family Services (FNCFS) agencies. To facilitate these services, FNCFS agencies entered into two separate agreements, first with provincial or territorial governments, and second with the federal government. The provincial/territorial government agreements transfer authority to First Nations or tribal councils to administer child and family services on-reserve under provincial child welfare legislation. FNCFS agencies must then enter an agreement with INAC for funding to administer child and family services on reserve. This is done under INAC’s “Directive 20-1,” which is the national funding formula administered by the department (effective since April 1, 1991). It restricts funding to eligible children on reserve 0-18 years of age. Thus, the level of federal funding varies according to population and geographic location.

The directive’s policies further dictate that in most provincial jurisdictions, FNCFS agencies must be incorporated under existing provincial child welfare legislation, which requires that they comply with provincial legislation and standards. There is one exception in Ontario, where FNCFS agencies are funded by the province and later reimbursed by the federal government. Consequently, there is a complex three-party relationship between FNCFS agencies, the provinces, and INAC, all of whom are responsible for the funding and delivery of child and family services for First Nations in Canada. In June 2000, a joint policy review of Directive 20-1 by the Assembly of First Nations and INAC resulted in 17 recommendations for improvements in the current policy. Despite advances in provincial government policies in aboriginal child welfare and increasing First Nations control over child welfare structures, First Nations children are still three times more likely to be in state care than non-First Nations children. Conventional wisdom places the number of aboriginal children in care today at about 27,000, but best estimates place the number in care between 22,500 and 28,000.

During the Sixties Scoop, children were often sent to other provinces, the United States or even overseas. The white, middle-class families who took them in had no concept of the significance of aboriginal culture with its emphasis on the extended family or tight-knit community. Many of these children grew up largely alienated from their families and communities with little or no understanding of their own culture and identity. In their new environments, they were often discriminated against because of their race, and by the time they reached their mid-teens, the vast majority were running away repeatedly, abusing drugs and alcohol, or turning to crime as a result of identity crises.

Though many adoptive families were well intentioned, literature on cross-cultural or trans-racial adoption in Canada has found that aboriginal trans-racial adoptions consistently failed. Recent studies have shown that such adoptions deteriorate rapidly in the teen years regardless of age of placement, and according to recent statistics, a stunning 85 to 95 percent of aboriginal trans-racial adoptions ultimately fail by the time the adoptee reaches adolescence. As a result, the majority of the aboriginal children adopted as a result of the Sixties Scoop now struggle with a number of identity issues as adults today.

Dr. Leo Steiner, a former director of the Aboriginal Community Crisis Team at the Toronto East General Hospital, said in an affidavit to the Family Court in 1990 in a case regarding cross-cultural adoption, “A child who is conflicted about his identity is severely handicapped. He may have developed a host of functional skills, but he is also subject to a gnawing, chronic self-questioning. The child becomes a victim of a self-fulfilling prophecy, self-sabotaging his own attempts at success, for he strongly believes he is doomed to failure. With low self-esteem and a confused sense of self, the child is ill equipped to form healthy and mature relationships with others. He is more likely to seek short-term pleasures rather than more productive realistic long-term goals. Unable to interact meaningfully in adulthood, he often develops a self centered, impulse-pleasing self-destructive lifestyle.”

In Ontario, the Native Child and Family Services of Toronto (NCFST) provides child welfare related services to an estimated 60,000 aboriginal people in the greater Toronto area. It provides a full range of prevention programs, as well as treatment and healing services. The NCFST is a licensed foster care provider, manages a large aboriginal child welfare caseload, and has an extensive for street youth. The centre is unique insofar as it is Ontario’s full service off‑reserve child welfare initiative under the direct control and management of the urban native community. Among youth on the street in Toronto, the typical profile is that of a young aboriginal male, often a runaway from an adoption home since about 14 years of age. A significant number of people served by the centre have experienced cross‑cultural adoptive breakdowns.

By Malcolm McColl

A man dies and goes to heaven, and there he meets God at the Pearly Gates. God happens to be wearing a beautiful Chilkat blanket in the tradition of the Pacific Northwest coast and He says to the new arrival, “Welcome to heaven. It’s good to see you. Now you have one question to answer to get in the door. Tell me one thing that my blanket says.”

Artists from the Pacific Northwest specializing in the Kwakwaka’wakw tradition were creating masks and other cedar carvings in preparation for a potlatch. While at work in the carving studio, one of the artists explained potlatch. Before the birth of “Industrial Nations” in the late 1800s, the people of the Northwest coast conducted a thriving economy complete with complex international trade.

This complex arrangement, said the carver, must have fascinated close observers who came in the wake of Captain Cook’s arrival in 1778 in ever-increasing numbers. Whatever these people observed, they soon came to believe that potlatch had to be stopped. When the colonial preachers came to the people, proclaiming their traditional language and dances “demonic,” they also urged them to burn their beautiful handmade regalia because “there are no Chilkat blankets in heaven.” The potlatch was made illegal in 1884, and the Canadian government spent the next 50 years dragging the evidence into the fire.

What did the usurping authority find offensive in potlatch? The international trade of the region comprised a vast complex of economic drivers, including everything from elaborate masks to mats with inlaid family crests as well as fanciful inlaid hats and all manner of household products. Everything was manufactured and traded on an annual basis between more than a half-dozen nations. Within nations, each village had specialties.

Look at the last-gasp photographic evidence containing house fronts, totem poles, bighouse screens, clothing, hats, and masks of any Clan House Chief found from the northern-most Tlingit to the southern-most Kwakwaka’wakw. They all insisted on being photographed with their work. Add to this incredible tableau the intricate and absorbing detail of the Chilkat blanket, and add to that the minute detail of several family crests perfectly etched into an ivory spoon.

The carver, a natural born historian, was quick to point out that nations where rich potlatch culture developed are the very nations where art forms are the most intricate and detailed. The symbols and imagery practically bend the mind trying to figure them out. When you look at masks and evocative images in the Pacific Northwest coastal style, perhaps you are looking at a visual economic statement. The design itself holds information about the terms and conditions of agreements drawn between governments regarding distribution of nationally generated wealth. The compendium of so-called clan art found in and on a Hereditary Chief’s Big House could be a highly evolved record of an economic development system replete with “corporate” symbols and advanced accounting methods.

Part of the potlatch system was essentially a trade-based economic engine run by Clan Chiefs who had hereditary jurisdiction over lands, waters, resources (natural, manufactured, and human), and all matters of protocol in delivering goods and services. The potlatch was designed to be the mechanism of trade between nations, says the carver. Potlatch-oriented economics accommodated international relations between Haida, Tlingit, Nisga’a, Tsimshian, Gikxsan, Bella Coola, Kwakwaka’wakw, and Nuu Chah Nulth nations all the way to the bottom of Vancouver Island. The Coast Salish nation was notably absent from the system, and potlatch trading protocols went no further south.

The complex of potlatch protocols defied all the usual barriers to trade within the Pacific Northwest. It was an international operation working throughout several government entities and could only be trusted if economic order was preserved. This fell along the lines of vast wealth belonging to nobles, people of standing, and this was recorded in forensic detail. These were rich nations led by rich people. The complexities of an immense tableau previously described are yet to be recovered, except for the well-known family crests that provide a code to understanding potlatch economics. This means “statements of title” are completely understood by people who know their family shields.

The potlatch was run secretly by societies blood-loyal to House Chiefs, and these societies protected treasures (the accounts) among other things. A usurping authority designated these societies shamanistic and marked their members for extermination. Further compounding the misery of colonialism, about ninety percent of the people in these nations died of disease. Those who were left had the meaning of paintings, etchings, images, and carvings erased from their minds by a brutal system of residential schools. Adding insult to injury, these people were denied access to an economic system of their own design, since who’s to say theirs was not a reasonable prototype for today’s international trade system in commodities, goods, and services? It was a terrible irony for these people to have to sit on Indian reservations observing a close derivative of traditional creative endeavours governing the world economic structure, and yet they were not allowed to participate according to the Indian Act.

By Lloyd Dolha

The Conservative government is introducing policy changes to the way First Nations are funded in another attempt to ensure greater transparency in federal funding and the election of chiefs and councils. The changes are outlined in hundreds of classified Indian and Northern Affairs Canada (INAC) documents obtained by The Globe and Mail, include a number of briefing notes and presentations by department officials that introduce changes in minimum standards for band elections and improved accountability.

The documents make repeated references to the failed Liberal-led First Nations Governance Act initiative of 2002, which triggered widespread outrage and opposition among First Nations leaders. AFN National Chief Phil Fontaine issued a warning that the Conservatives should not attempt to revive the failed Governance Act through backdoor policy changes. “Any proposed changes that are unilaterally developed by the federal government and imposed on First Nations are of great concern,” said Fontaine. “This runs counter to the meaning and spirit of partnership.”

One document, a memo marked “secret” and dated Feb. 19, 2008, asks for the approval of INAC’s associate deputy minister in seeking cabinet approval to change the policies for funding band councils. It states, “An earlier attempt to enact legislated standards for community governance was contentious. The proposed approach—program redesign—is more modest, but could be misunderstood by First Nations.” The memo also recommends that new policies “would not be optional.”

The briefing note returns to the very issues that caused the controversy in the 2002 Governance Act: term limits, election appeals, the appointment of electoral officials, and the right of off-reserve band members to vote. The document demonstrates a move to challenge the selection of band leaders by “custom elections” that allow the use of Aboriginal traditions that do not involve secret ballots or written rules. It notes that 333 bands representing 54% of all band councils are elected in the custom system rather than using rules stipulated by the Indian Act. The memo states that about 60 of the custom codes are unwritten and based on oral tradition, while others lack clarity and are “flawed/outdated.”

Another document, titled “Communications Strategy” said that the department has scaled back its communications budget (from $5 million to $1.2 million) for consulting First Nations on the proposed changes in a low-key communications strategy aimed at keeping the policy changes quiet. “A low profile communications approach is recommended,” states the document marked “protected.” A July 10, 2008 Indian Affairs presentation states that it may look like the department has “already decided on its reforms” and “with little time and funds, First Nations participation will be limited.”

Following the scaled-back consultation meetings with aboriginal leaders, the government is directing the changes to take effect on April 1, 2010. The changes, which will be brought in as new policy rather than new legislation, will allow the government to bypass debate in Parliament.

Leaders from the Federation of Saskatchewan Indian Nations (FSIN) were surprised by the proposed federal policy changes. FSIN leader Chief Lawrence Joseph called the proposed changes “damaging and disrespectful” and said they are contrary to the federal government’s duty to consult, as established by case law. In an interview with Regina’s Leader-Post, Perry Belgarde (former FSIN leader and contender for the upcoming AFN leadership bid this summer) said he agreed with the principles of transparency and accountability, but added that INAC has a duty to openly share information in a timely and respectful manner. Since the story broke in the mainstream media, the department of Indian Affairs has posted a more generic take on the proposed changes on its website.

INAC minister Chuck Strahl laughed off suggestions of a secret agenda. In an open letter to the nation’s chiefs, Strahl states that “far from a ‘hidden agenda,’ this represents an inclusive, transparent approach to get better results.” He also said “the timing couldn’t have been better” because INAC’s authority to fund current programs expires on March 31, 2010 and program evaluations over the last several years have recommended changes to improve efficiency and operations.

The minister said that consultations began in January 2009, and INAC officials will be working to ensure all stakeholders in these programs have an opportunity to express their views and suggest improvements until May.

By Lloyd Dolha

The B.C. government and First Nations leaders have decided to postpone the introduction of sweeping legislation designed to recognize Aboriginal rights and title after concerns were raised by business and industry. Premier Gordon Campbell intended to introduce the Recognition and Reconciliation Act in the final weeks of March before the upcoming May 12th provincial election. “Over the past several weeks many important issues, concerns, and questions have been raised about the discussion paper for implementing the New Relationship and the concept of a new Recognition and Reconciliation Act,” read the March 14th statement from the Office of the Premier, announcing the delay. “This is the time for us to make this important and historic transition in our government to government relationship and we need to take the time to get this right.

The First Nations Leadership Council said they have already initiated substantial dialogue with other First Nations leaders, businesses, and industry, and that dialogue needs to continue. “Given the ‘historical’ dimensions and significance of the Aboriginal title recognition and reconciliation legislative proposal, we need, to the greatest extent possible, make this journey together,” said Union of B.C. Indian Chiefs president Stewart Phillip.

The First Nations Leadership Council, comprised of the First Nations Summit, the Union of B.C. Indian Chiefs and the B.C. wing of the Assembly of First Nations, endorsed the proposed legislation plan at a meeting in Victoria on March 5th. The following day, Jon Garson, vice-president of policy development for the B.C. Chamber of Commerce, sent out a memo to its membership outlining the chamber’s concerns.

Garson said that the primary issue with regard to First Nations and the business community must be certainty around the land base. He cited a statement by First Nations summit leader Ed John, one of the key leaders involved in drafting the discussion paper. “We have high hopes for the application of the newly proposed Recognition and Reconciliation Act. It’s not enough for a mining company to go to the government for a permit,” said John. “It’s not going to happen anymore . . . The reality of conducting business will change.”

Garson noted that the proposed legislation discussion paper was drafted by the First Nations Leadership Council and a small group of ministry people from the B.C. government with no consultation from business or industry and little meaningful input from other ministries or the federal government. He informed their membership that the chamber has been involved in a number of meetings with key officials and will meet with other business groups to develop a coordinated position.

Garson warned that the legislation envisioned would impact all businesses and sectors that use the land base. “The sheer scope of the legislation means that it is imperative that the government undertake an extensive consultation process with business, communities and all British Columbians prior to proceeding.” The proposed act would recognize the Aboriginal title and rights of 23 reconstituted Indigenous Nations (tribal groups) without proof of claim, amalgamating the province’s 203 First Nations. This would mean an end to requiring First Nations to prove their existence before the courts when launching Aboriginal title and rights claims. It would also establish mechanisms for shared decision-making in land use planning and resource development and enable revenue-sharing agreements between the Indigenous Nations and the province.

The reconstituted Indigenous Nations would form an Indigenous Nation Commission that would facilitate the shared decision-making and revenue-sharing agreements with the province. They would also form a Council of Indigenous Nations to deal with the province on a government-to-government basis. The proposed act would also apply to all other ministries and provincial agencies, especially those who have any role in the management of lands and resources. The new act would take priority, essentially trumping all other statutes dealing with lands and resources.

Mike de Jong, Minister of Aboriginal Relations and Reconciliation, said the proposed legislation has yet to be developed, but the government is ready to proceed to the drafting stage. The province is expected to deliver draft legislation to the province’s First Nations chiefs in the coming weeks for their consideration. The chiefs have been examining the issue for the last year, and the discussion paper brief (not draft legislation) that they endorsed eventually emerged after three months of confidential talks between the province and First Nations leaders.

The proposed act is not without its detractors. In a memorandum to First Nations, Art Manuel of the Indigenous Network on Economies and Trade (INET) called on First Nations people to urge their chiefs to reject the proposed legislation. Manuel notes that the federal government is not even mentioned in the legislative scheme and that Aboriginal title was found to exist by the Supreme Court of Canada because nothing the province has ever done—including the issuance of “fee simple” title—has ever extinguished Aboriginal title. According to Manuel, “Endorsing the Recognition Act would change this and clearly put the province in control of defining Aboriginal title and rights.”

By Lloyd Dolha

A tiny Vancouver Island First Nation is poised to take over one of the most valuable Tree Farm Licences on the island. In a deal announced in early March, the Klahoose First Nation (located on Cortes Island in the Strait of Georgia) will acquire the harvesting rights to thousands of hectares in the Toba Valley—one of the most valuable timber regions on Vancouver Island’s South coast. The area, considered by the Klahoose to be part of their traditional territory, contains about nine million cubic metres of old growth cedar and fir.

With the assistance of the second provincial Incremental Treaty Agreement, the 300‑member Klahoose First Nation will acquire the cutting rights to Tree Farm License 10 for $3.75 million from the bankrupt Duncan-based Hayes Forest Services Ltd. Klahoose Chief councillor Ken Brown said the deal holds vast potential for his members in terms of employment and economic development opportunities. “This has provided the band with the opportunity to move away from the shackles of the INAC world,” said Chief Brown. “When you become strong economically for your community you can move away from those limitations.”

Brown said acquiring the tree farm license has given the Klahoose access to 25 percent of their traditional territory. The chief was disdainful of the treaty process, which he said has so far only offered them three-quarters of one percent of their traditional territory after repeated negotiations. “The definition of insanity is repeating the same mistakes and expecting a different result,” he said. The First Nation has fought for over twenty years against logging companies with interest in the pristine area. The band blocked the only access road to the timber-rich area through the reserve at the mouth of the Toba Inlet since 1988 because of concerns over past logging practices.

Last year, the Klahoose launched actions against both the provincial government and Hayes, arguing the First Nation had not been adequately consulted about granting a harvesting permit. They also requested the approval be denied in light of lack of consultation. In early December, the B.C. Supreme Court agreed, but stopped short of quashing the approval. The court ruled that provincial forestry manager Brian Hawrys had failed to properly consult the First Nation over the approval. “With respect to the process, I find it difficult to describe it as ‘consultation.’ While some information was indeed supplied by the ministry in response to requests from (the) Klahoose, much meaningful information was not,” wrote Justice Christopher Grauer in his decision.

Hayes had been developing a forest stewardship plan to log a portion of the Tree Farm License (TFL) in conjunction with Sunshine Coast Forest District. At the same time, the First Nation was negotiating with Hayes to acquire the rights to the TFL. According to the court, Hayes was open to all reasonable offers for the license but wanted to remain as the contract loggers for whomever purchased the license. “Thereafter, a stalemate developed,” wrote Justice Grauer. “In essence, [the] Klahoose maintained the position that nobody but the Klahoose First Nation would harvest the timber in their traditional territory . . .”

Hayes pushed ahead with its stewardship plan, which the Klahoose felt was inadequate. The First Nation wanted to see a comprehensive plan for the entire TFL. The Klahoose requested more detailed information about the plan but were rebuffed by Hayes and the Sunshine Coast Forest District, leading to the court action by the First Nation and the subsequent decision by the trial judge. “I have concluded that the scope of the Crown’s duty to consult with and accommodate (the) Klahoose in this case lay at the high end of the spectrum,” wrote Justice Grauer. “Whether the representatives of the Ministry of Forests and Range, who dealt with the matter, came to the same conclusion is unknown to me. If they did not, they were, in my respectful view, incorrect.”

The judge ordered a stay of all further activity on the TFL, but recommended the three parties continue to negotiate. “We now have closure on an issue that was not only creating difficulty for the Klahoose First Nation, but government as well,” said Chief Ken Brown. “For decades, the Klahoose First Nation realized no benefit from TFL #10 as the timber resources of our traditional territory passed through our reserve.”

The Klahoose will hold the TFL as one of the biggest Community Forest Licenses in the province. That status greatly reduces the stumpage costs to the First Nation from $25 to $30 per cubic metre to $8 per cubic metre, with an annual allowable harvest of 115, 000 cubic metres. Even with the economic recession, Chief Brown expects to earn approximately $2 to $3 million per year, expecting an increase to as high as $7 million annually when the economy picks up. Timber harvesting will generate 25 to 35 full time jobs for the First Nation, and profits will be used for other economic ventures.

The Klahoose recently signed a benefit agreement with Plutonic Power for the development of a run-of the-river hydroelectric project in Toba Valley. The project is comprised of three generation facilities on Jimmie Creek, Dalgleish Creek, and the Upper Toba River. Since then, Plutonic has upgraded the old logging roads, built new ones, and replaced all bridges in the valley.

Since all logging has been halted for over 20 years, the forest has had time to regenerate substantially. “The damage done to our rivers and streams caused by questionable logging practices of the past have been repaired during the reconstruction of the road accessing our valley,” said Chief Brown. “As a result of the newly constructed roads and bridges, we now have access into our traditional territory and an ability to pursue numerous economic opportunities, including a sustainable forestry program.”

By Morgan O’Neal

Old style Métis fiddling is not unlike the Mitchif language, which has been described as having a largely French vocabulary with an Algonkian/Ojibwe/Cree grammatical structure. The foundation of Métis musical culture, both past and present, is the fiddle and dance tradition which is closely identified with the lifestyle—so closely, in fact, that fiddlers have been heard to say, “There’s no Mitchif without no fiddle. The dancin’ and the fiddle and the Mitchif, they’re all the same.” (Leary, James P., editor. Medicine Fiddle: A Humanities Discussion Guide; p. 27)

Most Métis fiddle tunes are based on a European musical vocabulary, though musical structures are altered according to rigorous Aboriginal musical aesthetics. The music has been studied by “musicologists” who archive it and attempt to classify its historical influences (where it came in terms of older traditions of instrumental and dance music). Scholarship reveals what the players and dancers already know, of course. The music contains strong influences from three major founding cultures: Scottish, French, and Aboriginal. The Aboriginal influence is evident in attitudes about fiddling. For example, some people feel that the tunes should not even be recorded, and there are stories of tapes being erased after a player dies (Conversations With the Author, Kinesota and Ebb and Flow, Manitoba, 1985). However, not long ago, the tradition of Métis fiddle and dance was on the verge of extinction. Since the danger became clear, the last generation of real Métis players stepped up to make certain the tradition would flourish into the future.

The figure at the forefront of the resurgence was and is Jean-Baptiste (John) Arcand (profiled in The Star Phoenix by Doug Cuthand July 20, 2007). “When we think of leadership,” writes Cuthand, “we tend to think of politicians and elders. But leadership comes in many forms. John Arcand is a leader and role model in the world of culture and music. He is [an] undisputed master of the Métis fiddle. Whether he is participating in a music camp, conducting a music class, writing music, or simply playing at a dance, he is a tireless promoter of the music he loves.” As Arcand put it to Cuthand, “It is music of the heart.”

In the Encyclopedie Du Patrimoine Culturel De L’Amerique Francaise, Anne Lederman investigates the historical influences that made old-style Métis fiddling such an important element of the indigenous lifestyle. For instance, Scottish influence includes the use of altered tunings, a tendency to “double-string” (to play with extra drone notes along with the melody), a particular way of holding the fiddle (practically vertical, resting on the forearm) and the bow (gripped a few inches up from the frog), and a repertoire of Scottish marches and reels. Scottish dances have also been influential in Métis tradition including Reels of Four, Reels of Eight, Drops of Brandy, the Duck Dance and a rich tradition of solo step-dancing (called La gigue de la Rivière Rouge or The Red River Jig).

While it is possible to identify aspects relating to old Scottish tradition, it is much more difficult to separate old French-Canadian (Québécois and Acadian) and old Métis styles of fiddling. Their traditions all share characteristics which set them apart from most (but not all) of their Scottish ancestors. In the music, varying phrase lengths and asymmetric structures are also common to both French-Canadian and Aboriginal song traditions, whereas the descending contours and extended intros and endings are especially associated with Plains Aboriginal singing traditions.

The practice of clogging with both feet is widespread in French-Canadian, First Nations, and Métis communities, and is largely confined to them and their spheres of influence. This aspect of traditional dance seems to have no European antecedent, developing in Canada in the 18th or 19th century and spreading along fur trade routes throughout Quebec, Acadia, and the Northwest along with other aspects of repertoire and style. In the Northwest, the Red River Jig is considered a cornerstone of traditional Métis culture, and at one time it was a point of pride for a fiddler to have interpreted and developed their own version of the Red River Jig. However, the version recorded by Andy de Jarlis in the 1950s is still the most commonly heard today.

Influenced by the “down-east” sounds of Don Messer and others, a smoother sound widely disseminated on radio and recordings became very popular. It became known as “Red River Style” and it was this style that many people mistakenly associated with Métis culture, although much of what had made it distinctively Métis had been abandoned (for example, the irregular phrasing, the altered tunings, much of the double-stringing, and some of the rhythmic intensity). Fortunately, recordings of the older Métis style have again become available and fiddling is still iconic in Métis culture.

Largely as a result of the energetic intervention of John Arcand and those around him, a resurgence of interest in both fiddling and the old dance forms has developed in Métis communities of the Northwest, and a movement is underway to revive fiddling in Aboriginal and Métis communities on the Canadian prairies and in the North by teaching as many young people as possible. Arcand himself began to play the fiddle at age five, and by age 12 he was playing at dances. Over the years, he refined his style and became known as the “dancers’ choice.” As an adult, he had to make a living as a logger to support his family, so his fiddle temporarily went silent until later in life he was able to devote himself full-time to the music he loved. So as not to squander the gift he had been given, he learned the traditional Red River Métis tunes from his father Victor and his grandfather Jean-Baptiste. A ninth-generation Métis fiddler, Arcand has ensured the Métis tunes of his grandfather and father remain a part of his people and still flourish today.

Arcand helped establish the Emma Lake Fiddle Camp, dedicated to teaching the art of fiddling. He also started the renowned John Arcand Fiddle Fest in 1998. Along the way, he worked at the Gabriel Dumont Institute of Native Studies and Applied Research in the area of fiddle music research and compilation eventually producing Drops of Brandy: a four-CD set that brought together the best Métis fiddlers in Canada. He has produced 14 albums and composed more than 300 original tunes, including “Saskatchewan Reel” written for the province’s Centennial celebrations. Arcand has devoted a lifetime to reviving the old tunes and holding workshops to promote Métis culture. Last August, the 10th annual Fiddle Fest was held on his acreage southwest of Saskatoon.

Arcand is also an accomplished violinmaker or “luthier” During his interview with Cuthand, he brought out a violin that he had recently completed. Cuthand wrote, “Its body is made from maple but the top is spruce—a piece [Arcand] retrieved from his woodpile. The scroll or top of the violin is carved with the head of Chief Big Bear and the other side reveals a bear. This is a special piece of artwork and will be raffled off at the Fiddle Fest . . . proceeds will be put in a fund to build a permanent facility [for the festival].” Cuthand spoke with Arcand between gigs after he had just returned from music camp at Barrows, Man., and was getting ready for the Back to Batoche Days. “As soon as he’s done there, it’s off to another fiddle camp at St. Paul, Alta. This is a pretty heavy schedule for a guy who turned 65 in August. But for him,” says Cuthand, “it is a labour of love. It is what he loves to do and these days it takes up most of his time.”

It is no surprise that since devoting his life to rebuilding the strength of the Métis fiddle and dance tradition, Arcand has been showered with one award after the other in recognition of his work. In 1999, he was selected as one of 27 artists worldwide to represent Western Canada at the Fiddles of the World Conference in Halifax. In 2001, he was part of a Métis/Irish cultural exchange where he met and played for the President of Ireland. In 2003, he was presented with the Blue Lantern Award for Arts, Culture, and Heritage. Arcand also received a National Aboriginal Achievement Award and has twice received lifetime achievement awards (from the grand masters in 2003 for “outstanding contribution to old time fiddling” and in 2004 a Lieutenant Governor’s Saskatchewan Arts Award). He also received a Centennial medal in 2005 and the City of Saskatoon honored him in 2006 with a cultural diversity and race relations “Living in Harmony” award. Recently, in 2008, John became a Member the Order of Canada. “But after all is said and done, and the accolades and limelight fade,” writes Cuthand, “he’s happiest playing the good old tunes at home with his family and friends.

John Arcand is a master of traditional Métis fiddling, a musical ambassador for his culture. He has long been a driving force behind the preservation of unrecorded Métis tunes, applying his skills as a performer and educator to promoting and popularizing this unique musical heritage. John’s important contribution to the preservation of Métis music and dance has finally and deservedly led to the creation of a video documentary titled John Arcand and His Métis Fiddle. It explores John’s life and music and the history of Métis fiddling and dancing. The video documents the true meaning of Métis-style fiddling and shows how to dance the signature dance of the Métis: the Red River Jig. From playing for the Governor General to jamming with regular folk, John is seems most at home with a fiddle in his hand. As Doug Cuthand puts it, “to see John Arcand perform is to see a man serious about his music and in harmony with all that is good.”

By Clint Buehler

In a rare move, the jury for the 2009 National Aboriginal Achievement Awards selected the husband and wife team of Dennis and Melanie Jackson to jointly receive the award for arts. This is a logical and deserved decision given how intrinsically they are involved in the projects they create together, and the influence of their family and home life on their work.

Over the past decade, Dennis Jackson has worked as a producer/director/writer/videographer on numerous video documentary productions, and even as animation director for an episode of the hit comedy series, Corner Gas.

However, it is his work as president of Wapos Bay Productions Inc. and co-creator, producer, director and writer of the Cree language stop-motion animated television series Wapos Bay that has brought him the most satisfaction and numerous awards, including three Gemini Awards.

Through this series, and other productions, Dennis has exhibited his passion for presenting Aboriginal people and communities in a positive light while preserving and promoting Aboriginal language, history and culture in an entertaining way.

Dennis’s formal education includes a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Film & Video Production from the University of Regina, programs at the Banff Centre for the Arts, a CTV Fellowship and National Screen Institute Programs, including an Aboriginal Cultural Trade Initiative to New Zealand and Australia.

He encourages Aboriginal youth to explore film and video—particularly animation—as an art form and career, with workshops and information sessions in community schools and learning institutions, sparking the enthusiastic interest in this field for children and youth with whom he connects.

On the career side, Dennis has made a concerted effort to provide opportunities for Aboriginal people to work in all aspects of his productions.

Melanie Jackson’s contributions and influence extend beyond her significant participation in Wapos Bay and other productions that she and her husband create, to Saskatchewan communities and provincial and national Aboriginal organizations.

With Dennis, and on her own, Melanie has received numerous awards for productions she has been involved in, as well as for her other contributions to the Aboriginal community.

In addition to her film and video production achievements, Melanie is an accomplished visual artist in painting, sculpture and fabric arts.

Her life and career have been greatly influenced by her pride in her identity as a Saulteaux woman with ties to the Sakimay First Nations Reserve near Qu’Appelle, Saskatchewan, and the teachings of her mother and Cree mother-in-law.

From birth, Melanie was taught the protocols of the Saulteaux women within the family unit. She has great respect for the Aboriginal culture and spiritual traditions of both the Saulteaux and Cree people, and articulates both dynamically, with the words respect, honour and humility frequently figuring into her speech.

Melanie is able to live her cultural and spiritual beliefs daily, integrating tradition with her career and personal activities.

As important, if not more important, to her than her career achievements, are her roles as a wife, mother to two teenage sons, and as an Aboriginal woman.

The Jacksons are instructing their teenage sons in their faith and culture, and the boys have already received their spiritual names in ceremony. Like their parents, the sons have exhibited a talent and interest in cinematography—the next generation to bring tradition to the urban scene.