The Guardian: The Warrior Society rises: how a mercury spill in Canada inspired a movement

Seventy kilometers north of Kenora, in Ontario’s Lake of the Woods region, among a series of rolling, densely forested hills between two lakes, is the Ojibway community of Grassy Narrows, or the Asubpeechoseewagong First Nation. It is home to about 1,000 people.

As you travel north towards it, the lakes and rivers are crowded with pleasure craft, tourists and sportsmen. The closer you get, however, the sparser the pleasure-seekers get – until eventually you find a Chernobyl stillness heavy among the trees.

Nobody wants to touch the waters around Grassy Narrows.

Between 1962 and 1970, the Reed Paper company dumped more than 9,000kg of mercury into the Wabigoon and English river systems here. Slowly, that mercury poisoned the waters, and made the walleye – the cornerstone of the local fishing-based economy and the staple food of the local First Nations people – unsafe to eat.

On 6 April 1970, shortly after detecting the spill, by then nearly a decade old, the Ontario provincial government closed the region’s fisheries and moved to cut off the source of mercury.

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The Globe and Mail: It’s time to take consultations with First Nations seriously

The Trans Mountain pipeline debate has seen mainstream commentators and politicians in Canada position First Nations people with environmentalists and other “professional objectors” together on one side of the debate, with realists, job creators, and the national interest on the other. In effect, they pit First Nations issues and people against what they present as “serious” issues and people. Our Indigenous issues are seen as airy-fairy, theirs are about bread and butter.

However, this week’s decision by the Federal Court of Appeal to revoke the licence for the Trans Mountain pipeline expansion, and the victory of the First Nations that launched the suit, show once again that mainstream Canada’s failure to treat First Nations issues as serious is itself what is most destructive to the national interest.

Thursday’s court ruling declared that the government’s consultations with First Nations were nothing of the sort, but instead were mere “note-taking” sessions designed to tick a box in an approval process whose outcome had already been decided.

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Unpublished: Thunder Bay Note

Last week, on the same day a gunman opened fire on people along the Danforth in Toronto, Statistics Canada released crime numbers for 2017. The release was obviously overshadowed by the attack – and so went largely unnoticed. But digging through the numbers, we find that once again, Thunder Bay ranks as Canada’s murder capital with a rate of 5.8 murders per 100,000 people. 

Last year, I visited Thunder Bay to look at this issue – and saw that if anything, the reported murder rate is low. I looked at the case of Marlan Chookomolin – a 25-year old Native man, who was killed shortly before Canada Day 2017. The Thunder Bay Police Service haven’t ruled on his cause of death, and so his killing wasn’t part of the death toll reported to Statistics Canada’s. That isn’t an unusual situation in Thunder Bay, and is the reason for a provincial government investigation of the police service.

But a year after his death, with these numbers reinforcing how dangerous the city is for Native people, I wanted to take a look back at the case. There have been developments since my visit to the city, which show the magnitude of the ongoing crisis there.

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June 25th, 2017 was a cool, overcast day in Thunder Bay. It was about 13 degrees with light showers off and on throughout the day. In the north end of the city there’s a small park with good tree cover where you can hang out in that kind of weather without getting too wet – the park is situated next to the Landmark Hotel which has the added benefit of having an LCBO liquor store in its lobby. On this June 25th, a 25-year old Anishinaabe man named Marlan Chookomolin met up with several friends near the Landmark – 2 men, 1 woman, all First Nations. Like a lot of people do in summer, they went to the park to hang out and have some drinks.

Marlan’s family conducted their own investigation in to what happened next. I spoke about the investigation with several members of the Chookomolin family last year, and from those interviews, I end up with the following very rough approximation of the events of that day. This is not an official account, but a fictionalized version, with gaps filled in with speculation where need be.

The other men were Shawn Smith and Peter Jones (not their real names). Like Marlan, Shawn and Peter loved wrestling – judging from their social media feeds, they had the sport in their blood. With a few drinks in them, they decided it would be fun to wrestle. The young woman there was named Miranda – and that is her real name. Maybe she was keeping up with them drink for drink, maybe she found watching a bunch of overgrown teens wrestle boring, but for whatever reason, early in the evening, her memory grew hazy, and she left the scene.

The boys were seen by others in passing, play wrestling, maybe getting a bit rough with Shawn ‘spearing’ Marlan – spearing is a move when you double over and use your shoulder like a battering ram.

This next part is a best guess, it’s based on what happened after, and from the reports of a woman who overheard Peter talking about it to his friends. The young men continued wrestling, drinking. Perhaps Marlan gets the wind knocked out of him and reacts, punching a little too hard. Maybe Shawn responds and it escalates into a real fight. They replicate the moves they’ve seen in wrestling matches on YouTube and PayPerView, but on regular people – not trained athletes – and the results are devastating. As the rain grows heavier, two young men flee the scene, the third remains, in a growing pool of blood on the park’s gravel walkway.

Hours pass, night falls, and a man is walking through the park. He finds Marlan just barely alive. He calls the police. There are pointed questions about the man’s identity.  The man presents himself as an innocent passerby to the police. They take his statement and release him. Marlan is taken to hospital.

Safely away from the scene, Peter kept drinking, and was overheard by a woman named Kory, telling friends what he saw Shawn do. By coincidence, Kory had dated Marlan, and so the next day she went to Marlan’s family to tell them what she had heard.

On that day, June 26th, Marlan’s family is still scrambling to assemble at hospital. Some are off on distant reserves and need to be flown in. The doctors have told them the damage is too extensive, that Marlan won’t live. As his family sits by his side, bruises begin to darken all over his swollen body. His cousin Joyce describes the scene: “there were so many bruises so many lacerations, it was like every 2 or 3 inches on his arms, his face … we also noticed the bruising around his neck, we found it very suspicious, there were fingernails around his neck, like a claw to his throat”.

Marlan’s family asks the police to follow up with Kory to get her statement – the police talk to her briefly, but dismiss her testimony, telling Marlan’s father: “people are just talking when they’re drinking.”

On June 27th Marlan is taken off of life support, and dies with his entire family at his bedside.

A few days later, on July 3rd, Kory dies, aged 22 – one of two victims in an unrelated murder. Her last comment on Facebook: “RIP Marlan loved you always.”

When I visit the Chookomolin family in October, they tell me that Miranda is in hospital for undisclosed reasons. They tell me she wants to work with the family, and is desperate to remember what she saw happen to Marlan. The family asks police to put her under hypnosis, to pull out the full story. But, like with Kory, they run out of time. Miranda dies December 19th. She was 24 years old and a mother of 2 young boys. Her last facebook post is a photo of them, in a run down commercial area, seen from behind, holding hands.

Peter, in the midst of all these deaths seems to turn his life around, and focus on his family. Shawn, on the other hand, went to ground. I tried to get in touch with him to ask questions for an article on Marlan, but every time I found him on a different social media channel, he closed the account or locked it down. I gave up and published my article on Marlan here in the Walrus.

That article was titled: The Deadly Racism of Thunder Bay. Without the ability to interview Shawn, I had to leave out the family’s theory of the crime, and instead focus on the structural issues surrounding the police investigation of Marlan’s death. As of today, a year later, the police investigation appears to still be stalled, with no official statement on Marlan’s cause of death.

After the article was published, I checked back in from time to time, to see if progress had been made in the investigation. That’s when I learned of Miranda’s death. And shortly after – that’s when I learned of Shawn’s. (NB: I’ve not been able to confirm, 100% that this is the same person. Just the same name, same location, same age range)

A year after that summer get-together, of the 4 young Native people there, the 1 other roped in as a witness, of these 5 people, only 1 is left alive today. One died of an illness, the others were all murdered. If it had happened over 1 day, instead of 1 year, we’d be holding prayer vigils across the country.

Around the time I was visiting Thunder Bay, there were in fact prayer vigils in nearly every city in Canada. These were for Tragically Hip lead singer, and semi-official interlocutor for First Nations people, Gord Downie, who died of cancer on October 17th. He had glioblastoma – that’s an aggressive brain tumor with a 1-year survival rate of 25%. By comparison, the 1 year survival rate for these 5 Native kids was 20% – deadlier even than cancer.

Looking at all this death, you can’t draw any obvious conclusions from it, other than to say that a lot of things are wrong. Because it would have to take a lot for this amount of death to happen to one small group of young people over such a short period of time. People will say all of this death is due to racism, and yes that is a real thing, but racism isn’t an action, it’s a motivation for actions. But what number of different actions took place here that resulted in 4 out of these 5 young Native kids dying?

It’s so big that it’s hard to understand. But while deadlier than cancer, it isn’t cancer – it’s public policy, which means voters, which means you.

I don’t know why Kory was killed, or why Shawn was killed, but I do have a good idea why Marlan was in a place where he could be killed. Marlan wanted to go to college, but it is hard for a man with a last name like Chookomolin to get a job in that city to save up the money to make it happen. So to go to school, Marlan needed funding from his First Nation. However, three years after it was supposedly abolished, they are still suffering under the 2% funding cap.

The 2% cap was imposed on First Nations by the Chretien regime in 1995, and limited growth in funding for First Nations programs to no more than 2% per year. With a rapidly growing population, this means that each year for the last 20 years, per capita funding for First Nations services has been cut. In spite of the vocal Native opposition, Canadian voters rewarded Chretien for these budget-cutting measures with majority victories in the 1997, and 2000 elections.

Because of the cap, the funding that Marlan needed to go to school wasn’t there, and he had to wait 2 years before any was available. That money finally came in, and Marlan was due to begin his studies in September.

I asked Marlan’s father if he believes that his son would be alive today if he had received funding earlier and been in school: “Yes. If he was in school, I believe he would still be alive.”

 

Walrus Magazine 15th Anniversary Speech: The Future of First Nations

My name is Robert Jago, and I’m an occasional contributor to the Walrus Magazine and other places. I write on First Nations issues. I come from BC and I’m a member of the Kwantlen First Nation – part of the Salish people.

Which I mention for context.

I’m going to be talking about what Canada will look like with respect to First Nations, in the coming decades.

But before that I think I should step back and talk about where my thinking is coming from on this.

This past week has been bad. I’ve been in and out of hospital with my mother, and had to help bury two uncles – and for Salish people that’s bury in a literal sense.

One of the 6 steps of our funeral rights involves a shovel.

Queuing up to bury your relative is 3 steps after we burn all their stuff. You ever hear the expression, ‘you can’t take it with you?’ We don’t have that expression. In our culture, you take it with you.

Which I think might sound strange to some people, the image of burning books and photos, and food on a funeral pyr. But increasingly for me and for my people it’s not weird. It was at a point, but the dominance of our culture in our lives, the normalization of it, has been on an upward trend since the early 90’s.

In the 90’s the first post-residential school generation came of age. They were born without the stigma of being Native, and they sought to reclaim their roots, they rebuilt, they built new houses of worship, they resurrected the long repressed festivals and ceremonies, they fought to reclaim our rights. These are the people we buried this week – people who as they lay dying could – rest – assured in the tangible progress of their work – secure in what they’ve made.

I was young when these things were brought back, and learned many of these as if they were a foreign culture.

But after Oka, we were all open to finding pride in who we were.

Today, these cultures are practiced as the natural state of affairs among the young. My nephew is 8, he drops words from our language into sentences, he makes our sign of prayer – he ‘raises his hands’ when the moment calls for it. This is the culture he has been born in to – he lives it more than I could hope to, more than my parents could dream of, and in a way that my grandma – who went to residential school – would be shamed to her core over.

My nephew will grow up, he will have children and as the generations progress the scope of our resurgence will only expand – and as it expands, it will move from faith, more and more into politics, and ultimately the thing we Natives all see as the end points – land and sovereignty. This is the only thing you can universally generalize about Natives, we all want the land back.

I want to paint you a picture of what that could look like. This future Native Canada, circa 2068, when they’ll be burning my stuff on a funeral pyre.

This is a Canada where the map has changed – drastically. We have moved beyond treaties, there is no Department of Indian Affairs, but there ARE 10 or so provinces, 3 territories, and 2 dozen Indigenous Republics.

Each Republic in total control of their territory, entirely self-governing with all the powers of a province – and more – and an integral part of a new Canadian Union of peoples. With no blockades or blocked pipelines, but where we all develop and build together.

This is a Canada that has been re-founded, re-born, re-started back where it actually began in the battlefields of 1812 and in fact in every war before then. Think back to that war to 1812 and not about who or who didn’t burn down the White House, but think about who was there on the border defending Canada. French militia, English militia, and sovereign Native nations and their warriors. Without the latter, this wouldn’t be Canada today.

The Canada of 1812 was a partnership between 3 peoples. The English, the French, and the First Nations. This is the union that made Canada, this is the only structure that can make Canada whole, and this is who we are in 2068.

I recently asked non-Native supporters of Indigenous rights what they want from First Nations people in return for their support of our cause. They told me, in effect, they want to be forgiven for everything that happened. They want to get to a place, where all of us, including us Natives, can look at our flag, our anthem, and our institutions and say this is good – Canada is good. A lot of Native people hold out hope for this too. Last year on Canada Day I met protesters in the Tipi on Parliament Hill. Most told me they can envision a Canada they could be proud of.

This is possible, this is what we all want.

And looking back from 2068, where it has been achieved – we can see that it began in our time with reconciliation, we began it with the nation to nation relationship.

We know the state of affairs on reserve, the poverty, the poor housing, the paternalism of federal authorities isn’t spoken about enough. But in this future, this changed, right around now. Everything that the Trudeau government promised they followed through on.

We began by fixing the problems, not by diktat from Ottawa, but by placing the tools back into the hands of my generation. And with those tools, and with more and more of the money produced by the resources taken from our land, we began to improve things. We patched up the roofs, we wiped out rules that prevented people from fixing their homes, we created water systems, education systems, child welfare systems, and developed an environment conducive to real entrepreneurship.

And we began to expand. Success is popular and rising property values in the big cities, the presence of jobs on reserve, new found safety and pride, looking back again from 2068, we can see that in the 2020’s, 2030’s, these things brought people home, which spurred even more growth. And with growth and the return of many of our best and brightest came pressure.

Lift First Nations out of poverty, and as we see all over the world, the new middle class will demand more – that is the child of reconciliation. More political freedoms, more rights, more land. It is a universal rule that Canada is not immune to. And this critical mass will push us over the Rubicon and into uncharted territory for Canada – territory where big concessions must finally be made.

As our Reserves grow, the pressure for more control of land and resources will create a crisis for Canada. But this is a Canada that would have seen the success of Reconciliation, that would see booming reserves and aggressive young leaders of First Nations who are open to a final settlement. This is a Canada of 2040 or 2050 where its own leaders grew up knowing nothing but equality and progress for First Nations. And so the next necessary steps will be far easier for them.

Ending the Indian Act, moving past the treaties, a new constitutional round that recognizes vastly expanded first nations lands, and where they join as full members of the new state, with their own senators, their own members of parliament, and where in partnership with Quebec and English Canada, they, together set the national priorities.

These new First Nations republics in Canada will have everything they need to succeed.

The children of 2050, couldn’t imagine that the poverty of today could be so near to them. They know only success, they see their flags flying, they live and work in Native towns and cities. They grow up healthy, and secure, protected from things like suicide, and murder, and so at last, they’re just kids.

And it’s from them – from the reconciliation of today which led to the development of tomorrow, which led to pressure from a new Native middle class in the 2030s, from the great compromise of the 2050’s – that we come to these kids in 2068. It’s them that can give you what you want. That young woman in the centre, smiling, and living a full Native life for the first time in 2 centuries, a woman with a certain and positive future – that’s the person there in 2068, who will be able to say that the past isn’t forgotten, but it is forgiven. She will be able to say that this country, Canada – is – good.

[long pause]

But of course, she doesn’t exist, and really, if we’re honest with each other, she can’t exist. A truly reconciled Canada? That’s science fiction.

And it’s fiction, because this young woman can’t exist without this young woman.

She can’t exist without this young man.

Because to be a Canada where Reconciliation was real, where it could lead to progress to a middle class, and to a final settlement between our peoples, where we could all live together happily –

We would have to go back in time. Because you can’t have that Canada without Colten Boushie, or Tina Fontaine, or any of the –

dozens of other names we’ve seen over the last few years, and the many more forgotten names we should have, but didn’t see in the many years before.

No mother wants her child to grow up to be a hashtag – but that’s the reality for too many Native women, and that reality has been beaten over our heads for the last few years, making us know that reconciliation is a fairy tale told to put Liberal voters to sleep, that it’s PR for others, and not meant really for us.

Canada has no respect for our national rights, the recent pipeline debacle tells us that if you didn’t know it already.

These Republics, to come to be, and to give you what you want – real absolution – Canada would have to be a different country.

And it isn’t.

this is what it is.

and so what does that actually mean for the future?

Our numbers will still grow. Our cultural and politics will still advance. But unlike in the Canadian union model I just proposed, we won’t be building things together. *We* will be pursuing our path, and you yours, and when they come into opposition there will be conflict, as we have today on the pipeline, and tomorrow, in the Ring of Fire here in Ontario.

It’s clear that we’re not welcome in your politics, like the pipeline, like Nafta, like marijuana legalization. When issues of National importance come up, we don’t even get a spot at the kids table.

But my generation, and those younger, aren’t content to sit on the sidelines and be spectators in our own lives. And so all over, what we see are people taking charge. Taking care of each other, and this can mean things like the Bear Clan Patrols – patrolling the streets to take care of Native kids at night

Or like the Crazy Indians Brotherhood feeding the homeless, helping the poor, and when needed, taking on the role of the justice system when Natives don’t want to call the police.

At a very small cost, you could have had a more prosperous, and more just future, without this guilt hanging over you.

Instead what you’ll get is something messy, and confrontational. With the civil society of an entire people directed against you.

The Canada of 2068, will be hostile, will be poorer than it needs to be, and the Native youth in it will have grown up knowing nothing but opposition and conflict.  And just as our faith and ceremonies have become second nature to my 8-year old nephew – conflict and opposition to Canada will become second nature to these children of the future, and this is what they will build upon.

At a point these things gain a momentum that can’t be stopped. Or maybe it just seems that way. After all, how many times in the last 50 years have we seen systems of government and societies that seemed cast in stone, change completely in just a matter of a few years.

If Canada is to survive to 2168, that type of systematic, unthinkable change is what needs to happen. Should we ask that young woman of 2068 to do it? To take the decades of resistance culture and turn it on its head and what? assimilate?

Or should we ask you to do it – here in 2018, when the cost isn’t yet too high. And what is change? It means working to understand that reconciliation as it’s presented to you is a lie. Understand that the Assembly of First Nations that your government negotiates with has no support among regular Native people – it is the equivalent of a rat union. Understand that your wealth comes from Native lands. Understand that your government continues today, through the systems of control under the Indian Act,  to treat Native people like they were children.

Understand that and then decide that changing it is more important than appeasing foreign oil interests, more important than lowering the unemployment rate from 4.5% to 4.4%. It’s more important than lowering the deficit or paying down the debt. After all, none of these things matter if you don’t have a country.

And if there is to be a Canada worth living in, someone has to make a change.

The Walrus: The Story Behind Jordan Peterson’s Indigenous Identity

Jordan Peterson is a University of Toronto psychology professor, bestselling author, culture warrior, YouTube celebrity, and a growing presence in Canadian conservative politics. The one thing he is most certainly not is a member of the Kwakwaka’wakw people of British Columbia. That claim, however, has appeared several times in Peterson’s bios—which state that he has been “inducted into the coastal Pacific Kwakwaka’wakw tribe.” It appears in social-media posts, and it was referred to again this week, when Peterson tweeted at Pankaj Mishra, who wrote a critical piece about him in The New York Review of Books:

You say “Peterson claims that he has been inducted into ‘the coastal Pacific Kwakwaka’wakw tribe’ Just what do you mean by “claims” you peddler of nasty, underhanded innuendo, you dealer in lies and halftruths?

Peterson’s connections to the Kwakwaka’wakw people derive from his friendship and traditional bonds with the family of Charles Joseph, an accomplished Kwakwaka’wakw carver from Ma’amtaglia-Tlowitsis tribe. Earlier this year, I spoke to Charles Joseph—who confirms that Peterson is not a member of the Kwakwaka’wakw people nor the Ma’amtaglia-Tlowitsis tribe.

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Unpublished: Yet another article about quitting Twitter

When in the course of inconsequential events it becomes expedient for one person to delete the social media profile that has connected them to a large group of other people, a decent respect to the opinions of those readers requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

Well, ‘requires’ might be a bit strong.

I recently deleted my twitter account – but I’ve not deleted my account forever. Just for now, and for the next while. I didn’t delete it because of right wing harassment.

It’s more this – when you get a twitter dm, and you have the app installed on your phone, your phone vibrates when the message is received. Shouldn’t you be at least a little discriminating about who can make your pants vibrate?

I’ve not been. And as a consequence a lot of people have been able to send me messages, privately, subtweet about me, send me facebook messages, voicemail even – and a certain percentage of that is really critical.

And I’m OK with most of the criticism and the attacks and the loser hatemongers. If you only knew how thoroughly soul crushing a Walrus editing session is. US special forces are trained to withstand torture by being tortured during their training – waterboarded, sleep deprivation, all that. The point of it being that if they’ve been through torture, they can be better prepared for it, and last a little longer. Walrus editing is like that. Which isn’t a criticism of Walrus editing mind you, it’s a feature of it. But there’s nothing that Christie Blatchford can say that’s quite as brutal as seeing 4 of 5 paragraphs deleted in editing.

So those critics I can handle.

It’s the other critics that get to me. It’s the people saying that I’m taking up too much space, centering myself too much, saying I’m too full of myself, that I should be careful how I speak, that I shouldn’t try and rep anyone, or write on other FNs, the Metis, the Inuit.

The criticism stings, because it’s feeding into something I’m already worried about. I turn down a lot of stuff, to keep my small niche over here, I avoid speaking about Native politics as much as possible, and try to focus on a couple issues I know. In my writing lately I’ve cut myself back to only writing when I can contribute new information, not just opinion (with 1 exception), but new info.

So when I hear that criticism, it carries some extra weight, and makes me reluctant to write, makes me question what I’m writing or working on.

A strain within that criticism is also telling me that I’m too soft on things. Too bland, and compromising. I don’t accept that. But it does stay with me when I’m writing. Chirping away, making me think about punching up the text a bit. But that’s not writing, that’s performing.

I see myself as a didactic writer. And when I sound harsh, it’s a tool I’m using to make a point that can’t be made another way. But it’s not angry for the sake of angry – angry as ‘venting’.

Besides all that, there’s the baseline awfulness behind the concept of social media more generally. With Twitter, the retweets, and likes are addictive. And when your phone chimes with more, it’s like Pavlov’s bell – feeding the addiction. Naturally you make a connection between which tweets get more feedback, which get less – and you change the way you tweet in order to keep the bell ringing.

I’m thinking too much about the response, and not enough about what I’m trying to produce.Twitter is making me evolve as a writer in a way that is maladapted to the type of writing I want to do. It’s an island ecology, and those produce stunted, runt animals that don’t have the robustness needed to win over the 90% of people who live in the real world.

Most writers on there became who they were as writers before going to Twitter, so it doesn’t affect them as much. But that’s not the case for me, and so I can try and work with it, or I can leave the room and shut the door.

My mother was just here for a visit – that’s us at the top of 30 Rock. I’ve got a couple talks I’m preparing for. I’ve got a big interview that I’m reading up to prepare for. I’m taking a last shot at this summer article – and I hope to have another piece out in April. That’s what I’m doing for the foreseeable future.

I’ll likely eventually return to Twitter – if you want to write, you can’t avoid it.

But it bugs me that people talk about me like I’ve been harassed offline, or need some time to recuperate, or are in some way damaged. If you want to feel why I’ve gone offline, really – take a bus a 1am on St Patrick’s Day. If you say – ‘screw this’ – get off the bus and walk, that’s not you being broken, that’s you avoiding a headache.

 

 

 

Media Indigena: In the trial of Gerald Stanley, an all-white jury runs from justice

There is a video from outside the courthouse in Battleford, Saskatchewan last night. It shows a screen which is split in four and displaying the courtroom, the jury box, the judge, and the accused in the Gerald Stanley case.

As the verdict is announced, there are gasps and shouts; Colten Boushie’s mother cries out. Bailiffs grab Gerald Stanley and run out of the frame, and to a waiting truck under heavy RCMP protection.

In the jury box, a dark-haired woman in a short dress, and long hooded sweater jumps up as Stanley passes, and runs off camera herself—getting away from the family and the assembled Indians in the courtroom.

I would like to think that she ran because she was ashamed of what she had just done. But the likelier answer is that she ran for the same reason that she and her fellow members of the all-white jury found Gerald Stanley not guilty of killing 22-year-old Colten Boushie. They were afraid of Indians, especially angry Indians.

And let’s dispense, for a moment, with those words “First Nations” and “Indigenous,” because those imply respect, and progress. Today, it is clear that we’re still “Indians.”

“Fights with Native kids were a too-common part of [my friend’s childhood] experience … It’s no overstatement to point out that such kids were, on average, rougher than the white kids, or that they were touchier…”

That is a quote from the best-selling non-fiction book in Canada this week, Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life. Natives are rougher, touchier. The Indians are restless—run.

Some people in this country are worried about schools engaging in social engineering to manipulate children into holding certain political views. They’re right to be worried. It is school that taught that woman when to run. It was newspapers, TV, films, it was books. It was every comment and joke that taught her to run; it was the Premier of her province urging “calm” after the verdict. It was what her boss told her at her part-time job—’Watch that Indian over there, I think he’s stealing.’ She was taught to run, and to think that Indians, especially young male Indians, are scary—subconsciously, it sunk in, that they’re wild and dangerous animals.

If a fox is stealing chickens, it’s not enough to chase it away, you need to put it down. Gerald Stanley put Colten Boushie down at point-blank range, and because these jurors were raised to see us as scary animals, to think of us as wild “wagon burners”—a slur you hear on the Prairies—it was easy for them to see why he was justified. ‘It could have been me and my family,’ they undoubtedly thought—and who wouldn’t do anything to protect their families?

Gerald Stanley had a family, and one that looked like those of the all-white jury. Colten Boushie didn’t have a family. Indians don’t have “families.” They have braves and squaws, chiefs and papooses, bitches and thugs—but not a mother and father like the Stanleys are.

When you hear the mother of a deceased child wail in agony for the verdict you’ve brought down, you hang your head, and quietly and respectfully leave. On the other hand, when you get between a wild animal and its mother, you run. That woman in the jury reacted like Colten Boushie’s mother was a charging bear, not a grieving mother.

Don’t say that this is about Saskatchewan, or the defence, or those racists over there. And don’t say that Canada failed Indigenous people—Canada just failed. It wasn’t a mob of racists that released a killer onto the streets—it was 12 regular Canadians.

These are Canadians who have lived their entire lives hearing excuses for why they don’t need to care about Indians. Why care about tainted drinking water on reserves? ‘Those greedy chiefs are probably taking the money, those Indians need to sort themselves out first.’ Why care about the crisis in Thunder Bay? ‘It’s Indians killing Indians, Indians drinking too much and falling in the water, what are we supposed to do?’ For every problem that Indians face in this country, there is a ready excuse, a fig leaf, to shield Canada from blame.

The defence presented a case that centered around a magic bullet. It is a hard story to believe, but you don’t have to believe it. You don’t need a hard sell to get an addict to buy your meth. And you don’t need a hard sell to push a fig leaf on people who don’t know how to live without one.

If you don’t know how it is that so many reserves live in poverty, or why the prisons are full of our people, or why there are so many suicides, boil-water advisories, why there are so many Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, why any of the dysfunction and failure and tragedy that is the “Indian Problem” in this country exists, look for your answer in the Gerald Stanley verdict.

To find Gerald Stanley guilty, would be to find him responsible for his actions—actions which resulted in the death of Colten Boushie, an Indian. But we don’t do that in this country. White Canada is not to be held responsible for what has happened to Indians.

The school that teaches you to run, also teaches you that you’re the good guys in this story, and that everything that has befallen our Indian race was inevitable, it came on us like a force of nature. Who can blame you for a flood or an ice storm? Who can blame you for tainted water, or blame Gerald Stanley for just doing what any of you would do in the same situation? The jury decided that blame, as always, belonged to the Indian, for trespassing on this farm and putting himself in harm’s way. The best of you will shake your head and pity him, the poor animal, for not knowing better—but what can you do?

I feared that the jury would come down with a manslaughter conviction instead of the murder conviction that was due. No part of me thought they would let him go and believe this story. I honestly thought it was hyperbole to think that Stanley could get away with what he did, because as bad as some people say it all is, people claim to have good intentions, and things are better, aren’t they?

But they’re not. That’s what the verdict shows. That’s why she’s running.