1 day ago

PRINCE GEORGE, B.C. - School district trustees in northern British Columbia are considering a separate school for aboriginal students.

The school board in Prince George, B.C., has adopted all eleven recommendations contained in the final report of the Aboriginal Education Task Force, in an effort to reduce a 63 per cent drop out rate for First Nations students.

Recommendations include hiring more aboriginal teachers and improving the curriculum.

The task force also calls for creation of separate schools geared to the needs of First Nations, but open to all students.

Task force members hope a separate school for kindergarten to Grade 7 students could be operating by September.

School Board Chair Lyn Hall is vague on a timeline for implementation of the task force recommendations but is confident all will come into effect at some point in time.

http://canadianpress.google.com/article/ALeqM5h9HbtYAvkEw7T9gagJyHuuPiOKqQ

Vaughn Palmer, Vancouver Sun

Published: Tuesday, February 26, 2008

VICTORIA - Premier Gordon Campbell has responded guardedly to a call for legislation entrenching a "government-to-government relationship" between the province and more than 200 first nations.

"This is a big project and we need to get it right," Campbell wrote in a Feb. 20 letter to leaders of the three main aboriginal groups in B.C.

"It will take considerable effort in negotiation and in all of the requisite consultation with our various constituents.

"We need to take the time to get it right," the premier reiterated, lest the natives miss the point. "As such, I believe it would be a mistake to commit to a timetable for the introduction of legislation. If we were to do so and not meet it we would appear to fail."

His refusal to commit to a timetable constitutes a rebuff.

Leaders of the First Nations Summit, the Union of B.C. Indian Chiefs and the B.C. region of the Assembly of First Nations were hoping to see action during the current session of the legislature.

They laid out their expectations in a Jan. 24 letter to Campbell, arguing it was time to build a legislative framework around the "new relationship," the three-year-old working arrangement between the province and first nations.

The proposed legislation would incorporate formal recognition of aboriginal rights and title into provincial law.

It would establish a process for consulting natives and accommodating their interests any time provincial decisions encroached on rights and title.

It would apply to "all provincial enactments and policies" and "guide the conduct of B.C., its officers, employees, agents and institutions in its relationship and interaction with indigenous nations, their governments and members."

The natives did not produce a text for the proposed Indigenous Nations Recognition Act. Instead, they urged the creation of a joint drafting team with an ambitious agenda.

Conceptual draft within five weeks. Working draft for approval by the end of March. Bill laid before the house soon afterward.

That expectation led to a face-to-face meeting between Campbell and Aboriginal Relations Minister Mike de Jong and the native leaders in Vancouver on Feb. 9.

The meeting did not go well from the native point of view. In the aftermath, the main native leaders passed on invitations to attend the Feb. 12 opening of the legislature.

Campbell's letter of the 20th was a follow-up, setting out the government's position on the proposed recognition act.

He was careful not to reject it outright: "My government is prepared to focus our efforts, together with you, on this task."

But the three-page letter was freighted with concerns and obstacles.

"We need to agree on a work agenda that highlights this project in relation to other projects," the premier wrote.

"Such an agenda will support a shared understanding that the prominence of this work may mean that other worthwhile initiatives have to take a bit of a back seat." Hint, hint.

He insisted he wasn't concerned with recognition per se. The government already recognizes rights and title "as set out in the common law and the Constitution."

Further, the province "recognizes the authority of individual first nations" and deals with them one-on-one on everything from forestry agreements to management of social programs.

Rather, the problem was generating a single all-embracing piece of legislation that would override hundreds of other provincial enactments, and thousands of regulations, processes and policies.

He reminded the native leaders how, in the Feb. 9 meeting, "I indicated that a central interest to the province in any legislated government-to-government arrangement with respect to aboriginal rights was to ensure efficient processes. To that end I have asked how we could do so with over 200 first nations."

Still, Campbell announced the creation of a team to deal with the provincial end of the talks on the proposed recognition act. It will be led by former attorney-general Geoff Plant, one of the architects of the new relationship.

The premier further assured the native leaders that "I will continue to take a personal interest . . . and will look to my ministers to keep me fully briefed on progress."

Until "we meet again, once the work is launched and a work plan is established to ensure the process is on the right track."

He closed with "my hope" --- no more than that -- "that we can complete our work on this important endeavour during my government's present term."

Meaning the term that ends with the scheduled commencement of the provincial election campaign, 14 short months from now.

Perhaps the parties will be able to clear all the obstacles by then.

Otherwise, the new relationship could turn out to be another of those files where the premier raised expectations beyond what could practically be delivered.

vpalmer@direct.ca

http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/news/story.html?id=deafa8b8-22ca-4be5-8c94-94ec35c24750&p=2

Patrick Brazeau, National Post 

Published: Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Series author Kevin Libin on the issue of native governance

Shaking up Canada's native establishment

Q&A: Former Indian Affairs minister Robert Nault responds to reader questions

NPAnti-FNGA demonstrator Dr. Paulette Tremble, a Mohawk and Senior Exectuive of the Six Nations Council, voices her complaints on Parliament Hill with approximately 1000 First Nations peoples. The demonstration ...

In an ongoing series entitled "Rethinking the Reserve," National Post writer Kevin Libin is examining new strategies for addressing the challenges faced by Canada's First Nations communities. As the series unfolds, the Post is inviting other commentators to offer their own thoughts on the issue. In today's instalment, Patrick Brazeau, National Chief of the Congress of Aboriginal Peoples, argues that Jean Chretien's government was on the right track with its First Nations Governance Act.

A sad spirit surrounds many of Canada's aboriginal communities. It seems almost inconceivable that after all these years this country has not been able to alleviate the despair in which tens of thousands of First Nations families live.

How can it be that, in a country recognized the world over for its pragmatism, diversity and quality of life, there is one segment of Canadian society that seems to have been systematically prevented from sharing in our boundless prosperity?

The answers to this question are as diverse as the First Nations, Metis and Inuit peoples who constitute Canada's one-mil-lion-plus aboriginal population. Yet, at the heart of the matter is the pressing issue of how, when and through what means will Canada and its aboriginal leaders finally tackle the fundamental matter of aboriginal governance on Canada's 615 reserves.

Much of the blame lies with the Indian Act. Launched at the height of the Victorian era in 1876, this paternalistic, colonial, oppressive legislation was enacted with the purpose of assimilating aboriginals, and thereby ridding white settlers of the "problem" they were thought to constitute. Needless to say, the Indian Act and the policy regime that has grown up around it have done little to promote thriving, prosperous First Nations communities.

This isn't to say that efforts haven't been made over the years to reform and modernize aboriginal governance. The most recent of these was the Chretien government's attempt at the passage of the proposed First Nations Governance Act (FNGA) in the early part of this decade. This legislation would have guaranteed that native bands provide their rank-and-file with more financial, operational and electoral accountability. It would have permitted First Nations band councils to put in place their own governance standards according to each community's level of capacity.

The FNGA's drafting was motivated in part by the Supreme Court of Canada's 1999 decision in the case of Corbiere vs. Canada, which affirmed the right of off-reserve band members to vote for chief and council. Many reserves were preventing off-reserve members from participating in such elections, despite the fact that these band members were included in the per-capita funding the bands received from the federal government.

In rendering its decision, the court essentially instructed the federal government to address the undemocratic character of many First Nations reserves. Not for the first time, a Canadian court took the initiative in seeking to remedy some of the more destructive aspects of the Indian Act and its legacy.

The consultation exercise surrounding the development of the FNGA was one of the largest in Canadian history. Over 10,000 First Nations citizens took part in the process. My organization was there, fully engaging the off-reserve community in the process. However, the Assembly of First Nations (AFN) -- whose membership is comprised of the country's 615 chiefs -- boycotted the process, crying foul. The AFN alleged the government was moving ahead without adequately consulting natives, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

It's no mystery why the AFN would posture in this way. Too often, aboriginal governance revolves around the leaders' entitlements. There's no requirement for transparency to community members in many First Nations. Nor are there many meaningful avenues of redress for reserve members who oppose decisions made by their leaders. There is not even access to the most fundamental of human rights protections, since First Nations are exempt from the provisions of the Canadian Human Rights Act.

The sad truth is that under the current system, the entitlements of the few -- the chiefs -- run roughshod over the needs and aspirations of the many: the grass-roots First Nations people, most of them women and children in real need.

In the end, the culture of entitlement won out. The AFN convinced Paul Martin to torpedo the legislation upon his ascension to the Liberal throne. With it went the hope of thousands that something --anything-- would change.

That dream of change must now be resuscitated in Ottawa. Any effort that sincerely seeks to raise the bar on aboriginal governance would be welcome. In this regard, Canada needs political will across all party lines.

The longer we delay in improving accountability and transparency in aboriginal governance, the longer aboriginal youth will have to wait to realize their dreams. Until we act, the basic elements of democracy will be absent in too many First Nations communities.

-Patrick Brazeau is National Chief of the Congress of Aboriginal Peoples, a group that represents the rights and interests of off-reserve aboriginal people in Canada.

http://www.nationalpost.com/news/story.html?id=304150

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/LAC.20080219.RRIVERS19/TPStory/Business

ENERGY
WENDY STUECK

February 19, 2008

VANCOUVER -- On a sunny day last fall, British Columbia Premier Gordon Campbell and Energy Minister Richard Neufeld donned traditional blankets and cedar headbands to take part in a native blessing ceremony for East Toba/Montrose, a $660-million hydroelectricity project just north of Powell River on B.C.'s Sunshine Coast.

They looked slightly stiff in the Coast Salish regalia, but the symbolism was clear: The province welcomes aboriginal participation in such projects, which some bands are seizing as a rare economic opportunity for remote communities.

"At some point in time, first nations have to step up to the plate and say, 'We are going to be economically self sufficient. We are not going to wait for some government official to do it for us,' " says Ken Brown, chief of Klahoose First Nation, one of three bands involved in the project being developed by Plutonic Power Corp.

Resource development and aboriginal interests have a rocky history in B.C., where a lack of treaties means virtually the entire province is subject to unresolved land claims.

Indian bands' objections over using a lake as a tailings dump factored into a regulatory decision last year that killed Kemess North, a copper-gold project in northern B.C.

Mining and forestry interests have chafed against the obligation to consult and accommodate native interests, a requirement underlined in court rulings.

Increasingly, bands are seeking ownership stakes, royalties, training and employment in resource projects. Developers and financiers are turning to aboriginal partners to help make their projects work.

"A strong partnership between a developer and the band or bands in the relevant area is a huge positive from our standpoint," says Matt O'Brien, president of Connor Clark & Lunn Infrastructure Fund, one of many institutions that's trained its sights on the infrastructure sector. "It speaks directly to the ease with which the project is likely to move through the environmental and regulatory approval process," he says.

For its first investment, the fund bought into the $500-million Harrison Hydro project, a group of six plants in southern B.C. being developed by Cloudworks Energy Inc.

The project kicked off in December, 2006 with a traditional ground-breaking ceremony attended by Douglas Lake band representatives.

The role of bands such as the Douglas Lake and Klahoose is part of a shift in B.C., where the government is turning to the private sector for new sources of electricity instead of only relying on provincially owned utility B.C. Hydro.

That decision, and a flurry of applications for hydro projects on rivers throughout the province, has triggered furious debate over the long-term impact on the environment, the energy supply and prices.

Amid that controversy, Ken Brown is focused on the long-term benefits that East Toba/Montrose could mean for the Klahoose. The band has signed an agreement with Plutonic that features royalties, opportunities for equity participation, and employment and training provisions. The two-part project, scheduled to be operating by 2010, will fuel other economic development for the band by providing steady income and training, and by building roads into areas the Klahoose can use for forestry operations, he adds.

Other bands will likely have developers knocking on their door. The provincial government's recent major projects inventory lists dozens of proposals for hydroelectric projects with an estimated capital cost of more than $2.5-billion.

Last June, the Union of British Columbia Indian Chiefs called for a moratorium on private power development on British Columbia's rivers, citing the need for consultation regarding aboriginal rights and title. However, the group said it supported those first nations that were negotiating or had secured a private power deal.

With rising project costs, bands can find themselves fighting to stay in the picture, says Judith Sayers, chief of the Hupacasath First Nation on Vancouver Island.

The Hupacasath are majority owners of a small hydro project, China Creek, that began operating in 2005. The band's power development company is looking at other projects and sees the potential to have sizable ownership stakes in as many as 10 projects, she says.

Ms. Sayers has made it her mission to encourage bands to seek ownership positions in power projects, saying that even a small one such as China Creek can provide significant economic benefits.

http://www.firstperspective.ca/fp_combo_template.php?path=20080214canadashould

February 14, 2008 — by By Drum/FP Staff

The leader of the Assembly of First Nations (AFN) is calling on the Canadian government to follow Australia's example in apologizing to its indigenous people for forced assimilatiom.

Earlier this week, Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd made a formal apology to Australia's Aboriginal population for taking aboriginal children from their families and forcing them into institutions far from their homes, similar to the residential school experience in Canada.

"We apologize for the laws and policies of successive parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians," Rudd said in Parliament, reading from a motion.

AFN national chief Phil Fontaine said he hopes the Canadian government will make a similar move.

"It's quite a statement. It's of great significance — monumental. It's a special moment for the country. It's inspirational and sets a very high standard," Fontaine said, in an interview with CBC.

Feb 16, 2008 14:00 ET

GILFORD ISLAND, BRITISH COLUMBIA--(Marketwire - Feb. 16, 2008) - The Honourable Chuck Strahl, Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development and Federal Interlocutor for Metis and Non-Status Indians, today issued the following statement about the official commissioning of the water treatment plant at Kwicksutaineuk Ah-Kwaw-Ah-Mish First Nation:

"I'm very pleased that people in the Kwicksutaineuk Ah-Kwaw-Ah-Mish First Nation have access to clean, safe water from their own taps. They can now enjoy the same protection afforded to other Canadians when it comes to drinking water.

Providing reliable drinking water to residents of First Nations communities is a top priority for the Government of Canada. In March 2006, our Government introduced a Plan of Action for Drinking Water in First Nations Communities. Since then, the number of communities with one or more high risk drinking water systems has gone down from 193 to 85.

We're taking decisive action to ensure that all reserves have access to safe drinking water. We remain committed to delivering real, tangible and measurable results for First Nation communities. I commend the Kwicksutaineuk Ah-Kwaw-Ah-Mish First Nation for their perseverance and dedication to this seeing this project through. Today's achievement demonstrates that we are moving in the right direction to improve the quality of life in all First Nations communities."

For more information, please contact

Minister's Office

Josee Bellemare

Office of the Honourable Chuck Strahl

819-997-0002

or

Media Relations

Indian and Northern Affairs Canada

819-953-1160

http://www.merinews.com/catFull.jsp?articleID=130260

Monica Davis, 17 February 2008, Sunday   

Long before laboratories and official psyops projects existed, natives in the United States and Canada were victimised by biological warfare and cultural genocide. Targeting and abusing children for subjugation was rampant.

THOUSANDS OF Canadian Aboriginal Residential school survivors have received proceeds from a multi-billion dollar class action lawsuit, where the churches and government shared the blame in a multi-generational orgy of sexual predation, physical and mental abuse and even murder. While many have claimed their part of the settlement, others claim they have been wrongly denied participation in the suit, and still others never bothered to claim the money, because they just don’t want to drudge up the painful memories.

For nearly 200 years, the United States and Canada have sought to eliminate the ‘Indian Problem’ with a series of military, educational and genocidal policies, which were designed to eliminate aboriginal people in North America as a viable threat to the Crown and to American society. In addition to a military campaign that lasted generations, both countries sought to deculturalise natives through a series of educational and religious policies, which attempted to dissolve native culture by removing native children from their families and tribes.

The ensuing policy of removal put aboriginal children in government and church run ‘re-education camps’, where they were forbidden to use tribal languages, forced to adapt to ‘western’ religions, adopt ‘white’ clothing and hair styles, while being trained that their culture was bad and that the white man’s ‘civilisation’ was better.

In the course of their ‘mission’ to turn aboriginal school children into ‘civilised people’, the school authorities often resorted to a level of brutality, which was nothing less than war, war perpetrated within church and government sanctioned educational facilities.

The Reservation Boarding School System was a war in disguise. It was a war between the United States government and the children of the First People of this land. Its intention was that of any war, elimination of the enemy. The reason this war is difficult to recognise is because it was covered by the attractive patina of a concept called ‘Manifest Destiny.’ Manifest Destiny was a philosophy by which the white European (sic) invader imagined themselves as having a divine right to take possession of all land and its fruits. (Sonja Keohane, “The Reservation Boarding School System in the United States, 1870 –1928”)

A 1922 report by Dr. Peter Bryce, former medical inspector for the Department of Indian Affairs (DIA) claims that the death rate of these schools was unimaginable — and was also suppressed by the Canadian government. Bryce claims that there was a death rate of nearly 50 per cent in western [Canadian] Indian residential schools. He also reported that the evidence of these deaths was suppressed by both the Canadian government and the churches, which ran the schools. (P. M. Bryce, M.D, “The Story of a National Crime”)

According to critics, the schools generated a host of problems, and presented a danger to the health and safety of the native children who resided there. Historians note a cornucopia of deadly health issues within the residential schools:

·        They were breeding grounds for potentially fatal diseases like smallpox and tuberculosis.

·        Students were not allowed to practice Aboriginal customs or speak Aboriginal languages.

·        They were poorly maintained to the point of posing serious safety and other health hazards.

·        They were the source of great animosity between the government and Aboriginal parents who refused to let their children be taken away from them.

·        They were poorly equipped to properly clothe students, particularly during the winter months.

·        They were source of dangerous fires often deliberately set by problem children.

·        The food served at these schools were particularly lacking in nutritional value.

·        The work was physically demanding and harsh on the students.

·        Teachers were often so ill equipped that they could not teach students much beyond completely alien religious ideologies.

·        They were the source of great absenteeism, on both the students and teachers’ parts alike. (Some students would even run away.) (http://www.canadiana.org/citm/specifique/abresschools_e.html)

In addition to the incidental problems stated above, incidental meaning not necessarily deliberate, deliberate acts of abuse, rape, sodomy, even murder reigned through many of the schools. Many survivors relate stories of having to bury infants who were the result of sexual abuse on female students. Others tell of family members being sodomized and raped by school staff, and suicides by children who couldn’t bear the pain of living in these hellholes.

The atrocities are so horrendous that many people simply cannot imagine the scope of the horror, and, for a great many Americans and Canadians, the impact of the residential schools are beyond imagination. There were obviously effects on the immediate victims who were interned in the residential schools. The treatment they received was unimaginable: they were treated as scatterbrained and as dirty savages. They were beaten with fists, whips or batons for simple things like getting up at night, wetting the bed or speaking in their mother tongue. Many children were also victims of sexual abuse (oral sex, rape, sodomy, etc.). More than 10,000 complaints were submitted to the Indian Residential Schools Solution Canada. (http://www.deal.org/content/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=894&Itemid=1069)

In 1920, researchers noted that attendance at Canadian residential schools was made mandatory for Canadian aboriginal children. Henceforth, the entire population of Canadian Indian children was exposed to the often-deadly school environments where many died due to smallpox, tuberculosis, measles and abuse. Researchers say this was nothing less than a collusion of genocide, directed from the very top echelon of the Canadian government. Despite a growing death rate due to tuberculosis, caused by the murderous practices documented by Dr. Bryce, DIA Superintendent Duncan Campbell Scott abolished the post of Medical Inspector for Indian Agencies in February, 1919, with the result that death from tuberculosis among Indians. (Ibid)

Attendance in these death-trap ‘schools’ was then made compulsory for all native children in Canada, under a federal law. Thus, the schools often became incubators of deadly diseases, plagues, which the children, if they survived to the ‘graduation’ age of 16, then took back to their native villages, furthering the decimation of their tribes and culture.

In addition to the physical diseases carried from the schools, the children also brought home a host of dysfunctional behavior and socialisation problems. Children who have never seen healthy adult relationships, or don’t remember how healthy adults act, or know how to parent from seeing their parents and elders interact with children, have a hard time being parents and spouses. Children who have been raped and molested have issues with intimacy and trust.

Survivors remember being afraid to go to sleep, knowing the predators did their ‘best work’ at night. A residential school survivor told her interviewer:

“In the evenings what I remember is, when all the girls were put to bed, we had night watchmen that would take care of the building. I always had the fear of having a night watchman coming in and shining the flashlight around, because I knew that’s when things were happening with the little girls. I guess that’s where the abuse had started.” (http://www.wherearethechildren.org)

Other survivors felt abandonment, anger at their parents for allowing them to be taken to the schools. Some felt shame, because as bad as some of the schools were, home was often worse. Referring to the sense of betrayal she felt, another survivor said she actually hated her mother, hated the woman who gave her birth, until her dying day: “I hated her. I always hated my mother. Until her dying day I asked her ‘Why did you do this to me?’ and she could never answer me because she was also brought up in a mission. I didn’t understand that. I’m beginning to understand how and why they brought us up this way, and why they put us in a mission. Because they didn’t know any better. They thought that it was good for us. We needed discipline and we had better food than they did. I know a lot of people say they were better off at home. But in our area I don’t think that was the case. Living was hard.” (Ibid)

As painful as the memories are, many survivors say they feel obligated to tell their stories for this generation, because the history has already been forgotten by so many, as this survivor relates: “Even if you’re holding an important position, whether in your tribal council or in your community, you shouldn’t be ashamed. That’s what I’m doing right now. I’m not scared to come out and say what happened to me. That’s the only way I’m going to get better. Because if you keep it inside, like many of my friends and my relatives, you can die from it or you get into drugs and alcohol. That’s not the answer right there. The answer is to talk about it.” (Ibid)

Many children ran away from the schools. Some froze to death. Others simply disappeared, never to be heard from again. Some went to the authorities, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police — the Mounties and reported the abuse: "In 1936 a 15-year-old girl from the nearby Shubenacadie Reserve refused to return to the school and gave the following statement to the agent and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police: "I have been going to Indian school for the past five years.... Before my holidays this year I was employed in kitchen for eleven weeks.... In the eleven weeks ... I spent a total of two weeks in school. The Sister has beaten me many times over the head and pulled my hair and struck me on the back of neck with a ruler and at times grabbed a hold of me and beat me on the back with her fists.” (We Were Not the Savages, Daniel N. Paul)

For many whites, then, and today, the price the natives paid for ‘being civilised’ was well worth the cost. However, they were not and are not the ones paying the price in terms of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, psychological trauma, alcoholism, drug use, early death and identity loss.

Many erroneously attribute the dysfunction in native communities to an inherent fault or inferiority within aboriginal peoples, thus denying the ‘success’ of their own governments’ deculturalisation programs. For the supremacists, the problems with native communities are ‘proof’ of the inferiority of aboriginal people, ‘proof’ that ‘Indians can’t be civilised’.

The chain of events over nearly two centuries continues its onslaught, as six-plus generations of Indian school attendees endured the trans-generational result of school generated self-hatred, identity confusion and trauma. The psychological, sexual, and physical abuse, which many students endured in those residential schools has resulted in a pattern of programmed self-destructive behavior, which continues to wreak havoc in Canadian and US tribal communities.

Native women are more likely to be raped or suffer sexual abuse than women of other ethnic groups. Native men are more likely to be imprisoned than other men. Native languages are rapidly disappearing, leaving people disconnected with their tribal past and hanging on to ties with the majority culture by a thread.

In Canada, after the fall of New France (and the pre-eminence of the Catholic Church in Canada), Protestant denominations, including the Church of England assumed operation of the Indian Residential Schools.

After the fall of New France, the first religious schools for Aboriginals were Methodist and Anglican, opening in Upper Canada during the 1830s. The British colonial administration and colonial office gradually began to turn towards a policy of assimilation. (http://www.canadiana.org/citm/specifique/abresschools_e.html)

Those policies culminated in the creation of residential schools, institutions, which were run by the governments of Canada and the US, as well as by a variety of Catholic, Church of England and Anglican, and other denominational entities. The resulting abuse, murder and psychological torture of these remote church and government operated residential schools have been well documented by hundreds of interviews and statements from survivors.

Many of the schools were far from native reservations, by design. Many were cesspools of the worse kind of abuse. They were also operated under the aegis of the Roman Catholic Church, as well as the Anglican Church of Canada and the Church of England. The Canadian government has assumed the greatest burden of the class action lawsuit, which was filed by survivors of the Residential schools, but the fate of thousands of children who attended the schools remains unknown.

For that reason, activists have targeted church authorities, including several Canadian Catholic bishops and the Queen of England, who is titular head of the Church of England. Survivors and families of school children demand to know what happened to more than 15,000 children who never returned from the residential schools. In short, they literally want to know where the bodies are buried.

A demand letter to the Queen was personally delivered to a representative of the Crown by Carol Martin, a First Nations elder, as denoted by an excerpt of a press release below: Elizabeth Windsor, the Queen of England, was issued a Letter of Demand yesterday that requires that she identify the fate and burial sites of all the children who died in Indian Residential Schools established under the authority of the Church of England and the British Crown.

Aboriginal elder Carol Martin at the Downtown Eastside Womens’ Centre in Vancouver handed the letter personally to Governor-General Michaelle Jean in the afternoon of Wednesday, January 23. Martin asked the Governor-General to deliver the Letter of Demand to the Queen on behalf of residential school survivors, and the Governor-General accepted the Letter and assured her that she would (Press release).

No matter what happens, survivors will still have to deal with the guilt, anger, fear of intimacy, and abandonment issues which they, their grandparents and children endure on a daily basis. After more than 100 years of ‘education for extinction,’ the ‘Indians’ have refused to die, but the native community is not without its problems.

In the words of then-Assistant Secretary of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Kevin Grover, acknowledging the 175th anniversary of the Agency: This agency forbade the speaking of Indian languages, prohibited the conduct of traditional religious activities, outlawed traditional government, and made Indian people ashamed of who they were. Worst of all, the Bureau of Indian Affairs committed these acts against the children entrusted to its boarding schools, brutalising them emotionally, psychologically, physically, and spiritually. Even in this era of self-determination, when the Bureau of Indian Affairs is at long last serving as an advocate for Indian people in an atmosphere of mutual respect, the legacy of these misdeeds haunts us. The trauma of shame, fear and anger has passed from one generation to the next, and manifests itself in the rampant alcoholism, drug abuse, and domestic violence that plague Indian country. Many of our people live lives of unrelenting tragedy as Indian families suffer the ruin of lives by alcoholism, suicides made of shame and despair, and violent death at the hands of one another. So many of the maladies suffered today in Indian country result from the failures of this agency. Poverty, ignorance, and disease have been the product of this agency’s work.

(The author is a print journalist, author and public speaker, and has written articles on: education, native rights, land theft, human rights and politics. Her website is: http://www.lulu.com/davis4000_2000)

First Nations players are excelling in the National Lacrosse League this season.

They had sticks in their hands at an early age and plenty of role models to look up to, and now it is their turn to star in an offshoot of the sport their ancestors invented.

"It's definitely part of our culture - a big part," says Buffalo Bandits head coach Darris Kilgour. "It was handed down to us by the Creator."

Kilgour was three when he was introduced to lacrosse on the Tuscorora reservation in western New York. As he grew up, he would learn to avoid being thrown to the floor in wrestling and how to take hits in football, and he applied those skills to lacrosse.

"Lacrosse is easy in my head," he says. "I see the game a lot slower than most people."

That anticipation of what will occur next helped make him a standout player, and now a top coach. Besides his NLL post, Kilgour, 37, also coaches the Akwesasne senior amateur team in eastern Ontario in the summer, and his extensive contacts give the Bandits an edge in identifying the best up-and-coming First Nations players.

"The native community is where I have my strongest ties," says Kilgour. "The people I call, I can say, 'Hey, give me some players' names.'

"So they're probably the ones I hear about first and scout the most."

There are 20 First Nations players with NLL teams and 10 are with the Bandits: Cory Bomberry, Delby Powless, Roger Vyse, Clay Hill and goalie Ken Montour from Six Nations in southern Ontario; Andrew Lazore, Brandon Swamp, Brandon Francis and goalie Mike Thompson from Akwesasne; and western New Yorkers Rich Kilgour, the coach's brother and Bandits captain, and Brett Bucktooth.

Come the annual entry draft, Kilgour eyes all the best prospects that are available regardless of heritage.

"We look for guys who can help us at certain positions," he says. "I might hold a soft spot for First Nations players but . . . if a kid is clearly better, that's the way it is."

First Nations prospects do get a long look from the Bandits.

"It's more about continuity and the team aspect of it," Kilgour explains. "Some of the First Nations players are typically shy . . . and when they come to Buffalo they see guys they've played with and against at home and they know each other so it's easier for them to assimilate."

Duane Jacobs, who grew up at Six Nations, was an all-pro standout when he played for the Rochester Knighthawks and now is head coach of the Minnesota Swarm, who at 6-1 trail only the undefeated Philadelphia Wings in winning percentage so far this season.

Jacobs has coached amateur native teams during his summers, too, and he also was head coach of the Iroquois Nationals at the 2007 world indoor tournament so, like Kilgour, he's more familiar with First Nations prospects than coaches with many other NLL teams.

Jacobs has four First Nations players in his Minnesota lineup: Andy Secore, Dean Hill and rookie Craig Point of Six Nations and Travis Hill of Lewiston, N.Y.

The other First Nations players in the NLL are Cody Jacobs and Tom Montour of the Chicago ShamRox, both from Six Nations, Edmonton-born Jeff Shatler of the Calgary Roughnecks, Peter Jacobs of the Portland LumberJax via Six Nations, and Onandaga star Marshall Abrams of the Knighthawks. Mike Attwood is a practice goalie for the Toronto Rock.

There is a special pride within First Nations communities when their players pull on lacrosse uniforms. Their exploits are followed closely.

"Everybody from Six Nations knows who Delby Powless is," says Kilgour.

New and improved facilities on reservations, including the Iroquois Lacrosse Arena at Six Nations where the Swarm hold mid-week practices, will fill the talent stream to the NLL as more and more First Nations players emerge as pro stars.

Jeff Lee, Vancouver Sun

Published: Monday, February 18, 2008

Aboriginal people are being courted by the Assembly of First Nations and the Four Host First Nations to consider volunteering for the 2010 Vancouver Winter Games.

On Monday, AFN National Chief Phil Fontaine lent the assembly's considerable weight to the Vancouver Organizing Committee, saying aboriginal Canadians have much to offer the Olympic and Paralympic Games.

 "In less than two years, at least 25,000 Canadians will volunteer at the Winter Games," Fontaine said in a written statement. "We want to ensure that a good number of volunteers will be from First Nations communities located in every region of this country. This will be an experience of a lifetime."

Fontaine said the assembly will help the four native hosts, on whose traditional territory the Games are being held, to distribute a series of newsletters detailing how to First Nations people can participate.

 The advice isn't limited to volunteer opportunities, and includes information for how First Nations people can get involved in employment and procurement opportunities, as well as the 2010 Torch Relay and the remaining two Cultural Olympiads.

 In addition, the AFN is giving the FHFN a set of drums that will be taken to Beijing, China as part of an interactive display at the BC - Canada Pavilion during the 2008 Summer Games.

Tewanee Joseph, the executive director of the FHFN, which includes the Lil'wat, Squamish, Musqueam and Tsleil-Waututh nations, said the drums will be used by members of the four hosts.

He said a number of aboriginal Canadians have already signed up as volunteers for 2010.

The group doesn't have a quota but hopes for a significant turnout.

http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/news/story.html?id=d19570b0-4fc0-4f7f-adf6-acb9f2c69c78&k=51102

3 hours ago

WHISTLER, B.C. - The Squamish Lil'wat Cultural Centre, the latest addition to the Whistler resort village, will feature exhibits including traditional and contemporary First Nations weavings, canoes carved from cedar logs, and artworks.

The 2,800-square-metre complex, opening in June, is intended to showcase the cultures of the Squamish and Lil'wat people.

Located on a 1.8-hectare site in a "spectacular natural setting," the $31-million centre designed by aboriginal architect Alfred Waugh is evocative of a Squamish longhouse and Lil'wat pit house, said a news release.

Master artisans will be on site showcasing their crafts. Techniques for Squamish weavings being made for the centre are based on those of blankets worn by Joe Capilano and 10 other chiefs on a famous 1906 trip to London to meet King Edward VII, according to the release.

Woven cedar baskets created by Lil'wat artisans will also be displayed.

On the web: www.slcc.ca.

http://canadianpress.google.com/article/ALeqM5iRU7WwDwd0uF1DNduxYn8MhrmXt

Tb News Source

Web Posted: 2/18/2008 4:10:11 PM 

  A local film continues to attract attention and highlight a national issue thats making a mark on First Nations Youth. 'Seeking Bimaadizilwin' a documentary on that deals with the tough topics of depression, suicide and racism continues to be shown around the city, most recently at Lakehead University. The screening provided students and film makers the chance to talk about solutions, and even share their own experiences. Filmmaker Michelle Derosier says the film has received a lot of local reaction.

Actress Candice Twance who is in 'Seeking Bimaadizilwin' says it's important for students to see first hand the situations many First Nation Youth deal with on a daily basis. Twance says the film shows real life circumstances that she can relate to.

Along with 'Seeking Bimaadiziwin' another film called 'Three Nations, One Story' was screened at L.U. Filmmakers say both of the documentaries will continue to be shown in the city as well as across the country, in an attempt to shine a light on the tragedy of native suicides. 

http://www.tbsource.com/localnews/index.asp?cid=104847

RESIDENTIAL SCHOOLS

BILL CURRY

February 11, 2008

OTTAWA -- The Assembly of First Nations says it has been shut out of negotiations on a federal apology on Indian residential schools, raising the possibility that it will be rejected by former students.

The national chief of the AFN, Phil Fontaine, wrote to Prime Minister Stephen Harper last week expressing "deep concern" about the process the Conservative government was using to word its promised apology.

After resisting repeated requests for an apology, the government announced in last fall's Throne Speech that one was forthcoming.

"However, we have since been informed that the text of the apology is being drafted without consultation with the Assembly of First Nations," Mr. Fontaine wrote, according to a copy of the letter obtained by The Globe and Mail. "If this is the case, not only does the federal government risk having the apology refuted by survivors and First Nations peoples, we also believe the Federal Government would be in breach of the Political Agreement between the AFN and the Government of Canada executed on May 30, 2005."

 That 2005 agreement with the previous Liberal government set the process in place for the multibillion-dollar, out-of-court Indian residential schools settlement that was later completed and agreed to by the Conservatives.

The AFN is Canada's largest aboriginal lobby group. It is funded by the federal government and its activities must be approved by the chiefs of the country's 630 native reserves.

The 2006 out-of-court deal promised to create a Truth and Reconciliation Commission that would hold cross-country hearings and write the official history of the system that had a direct impact the lives of Canadian aboriginals for more than 100 years.

The official launch of the commission was expected to occur early this year and it was widely thought the apology would coincide with that announcement.

Ted Yeomans, a spokesman for Indian Affairs Minister Chuck Strahl, would not comment directly on whether the government is involving the AFN in the drafting of the apology, but offered a general pledge to consult the native organization.

"We have and will continue to consult with the AFN with reference to an apology," he said in an e-mail yesterday. "Our government is committed to delivering a respectful and meaningful apology to all former students of residential schools."

Mr. Fontaine's letter to the Prime Minister includes a copy of a draft apology written by the AFN in 2004.

The 2½ -page draft apology would have Ottawa admit that: "It was Canada's policy to assimilate Aboriginal peoples into one, non-aboriginal, Christian community of Canada .... The basic premise of the vision of re-socialization and language was violent: 'To kill the Indian in the child,' was the stated goal of residential schools whereby at the end of the process of assimilation, it was said that 'all the Indian there is in the race should be dead.' "

In addition to acknowledging that children were abused in the schools, the AFN draft apology would have Canada admit that: "In addition, inadequate oversight and control by the government resulted in neglect, abuse and even deaths of children in residential schools."

Conditions that led to the deaths of two little girls will persist until mainstream society acts

Feb 10, 2008 04:30 AM

Marie Wadden

The two children, Kaydance and Santana Pauchay, who froze to death on the Yellow Quill reserve in Saskatchewan are not the first to die this horrible way on a First Nation reserve, Métis or Inuit community.

Every winter, someone dies in aboriginal communities from the same deadly combination: extreme cold and excessive alcohol consumption.

It happens when a drinker loses consciousness on the way to or from a party and is not missed until it is too late. I witnessed such a death once in Natuashish, Newfoundland and Labrador, when a woman in her 20s, named Deborah Rich, died this way.

My heart goes out to the Pauchay family and the people of Yellow Quill because I know these deaths will contribute another layer of guilt and despair to the community's internalization of its social problems, deepening the sense of helplessness and despair. Some mourners will turn back to alcohol and drugs to escape from reality. Others, a growing number, will not drink at all.

What's little known in Canada is that many aboriginal people have been taking responsibility for the addiction epidemic that came upon them when their losses grew too great to bear. A healthy and inspiring addiction recovery movement has been underway for more than three decades.

Today, a greater number of aboriginal people abstain completely from alcohol than other Canadians and many of them are helping family and friends do the same. Aboriginal communities just have more problem drinkers.

So, let's stop throwing stones at aboriginal communities for their drinking problems and try to figure out where the problem drinkers are coming from.

We're so busy blaming aboriginal addicts that we can't see how our personal actions and political policies contribute to the self-destructive behaviour that is creating so much misery. The same conditions that led to the deaths of the Pauchay girls will persist once the media attention ends because most Canadians just don't get it.

What we don't get is that racism is at the root of the problem.

Few non-aboriginal Canadians mix socially with aboriginals. For their part, most aboriginals have obediently stayed where we put them after we took away their land and resources. They come into our communities for services they can't get at home.

We've created ghettos for them in our cities. Their triumphs receive little mention in our media, but their tragedies get widely reported. The Indian and northern affairs department parcels out large amounts of money to support a bureaucracy that, in turn, doles out a myriad of social and economic programs that fail because so few aboriginals have a say in their creation. More money is not the answer, smarter spending is.

To quote a very wise First Nations man named Marcel Hardisty: "These are people problems."

People problems are the hardest to solve, particularly when you don't like the people you must solve them with. Sadly, the same indifference, dislike and racism we fling in their direction is felt by many aboriginals toward us, the people they call "mainstream society."

The way aboriginals have been marginalized has created so much distrust and hatred, it's hard to know where to start fixing things.

A start can be made in the next few weeks if Canadians get behind this country's Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Canada didn't go into this willingly, by the way. There'd be no such commission if there hadn't been the threat of a class-action lawsuit from 80,000 former students of Indian residential schools. The commission was mandated as part of the out-of-court settlement.

Successive government policies since the Gradual Civilization Act, passed in 1857, broke aboriginal societies by taking children away from their parents and trying to change or assimilate them.

What was accomplished? We created more aboriginal English and French speakers who became alienated from their families, communities and cultures. They also learned self-hatred. We created generations of addicts.

The truth and reconciliation process will only work if people from both sides of the divide take part. Public hearings will give aboriginal people an opportunity to tell their stories of hurt and pain. But who will be listening? If there is going to be reconciliation, those of us in "mainstream society" will have to listen with open hearts, no matter how fervently we may disagree or wish to ignore these truths.

Reconciliation can only be made if non-aboriginals are up to the task. I hope we will be. We need to begin healing this broken country. A country can't be whole when almost 3 per cent of its citizens, the true founding peoples, live in so much pain and hardship.

It's too late to save those beautiful little girls who froze to death in Saskatchewan. There is a chance, however, that we can prevent other deaths and help another generation avoid the lure of addiction.

Canada's truth and reconciliation process is supposed to last for five years – that's five years to begin picking up the pieces and supporting the addiction recovery movement that aboriginal people have, with little fanfare and encouragement from the rest of us, already set in motion.

Marie Wadden's series on Canadian public policy and aboriginal addiction is still on our website: thestar.com/specialSections/atkinson. Her book Where the Pavement Ends; Canada's Aboriginal Recovery Movement and the Urgent Need for Reconciliation (published by Douglas & McIntyre) will be in bookstores this May.

Lindsay Kines, Times Colonist

Published: Saturday, February 09, 2008

The B.C. government yesterday rolled out a $500,000 program aimed at reducing the disproportionately high number of aboriginal people living on the streets.

The Aboriginal Homeless Outreach Program will link the homeless to housing, income assistance and other support services, Housing Minister Rich Coleman said in an interview.

The program builds on a nearly $4-million homeless outreach effort that began in 2006.

"Last year, we took 2,400 people off the street, connected them in housing, and 85 per cent of them are still housed," Coleman said.

"So we're managing to do this."

The Victoria Native Friendship Centre and Hiiye'yu Lelum in Duncan are among eight non-profit groups selected to run the program across the province.

The Victoria agency will use the money to hire one outreach worker to help people find a place to live and other supports, assistant executive director Kari Hutchison said yesterday.

The centre, which hopes to expand the program, already has a list of people in need of help, and knows of several families living in hotels and motels along the Gorge.

"The person will be very busy, I can tell you that," she said.

Although aboriginals make up only 2.5 per cent of Victoria's population, a survey of Victoria's homeless last year said 25 per cent identified themselves as aboriginal.

"That's really quite a large over-representation given the population of aboriginals in our province and in our city," said Kathy Stinson, executive director of Victoria's Cool Aid Society.

"Definitely there's an issue there that needs more resources put to addressing it."

Victoria-Hillside NDP MLA Rob Fleming, however, said it's tough for any outreach worker to connect people to housing that doesn't exist. He called on the provincial government to make a "more substantive" commitment to fixing a problem that has exploded in recent years.

"For this to work," Fleming said, "we're going to have to have a sustained and sizable housing program again. And not just for the hard-to-house, street-entrenched homeless, but for those families at risk of homelessness.

"We need to bring back good, affordable family housing programs."

lkines@tc.canwest.com

Updated Tue. Jan. 15 2008 8:42 AM ET

The Canadian Press

INUVIK, N.W.T. -- The lively five-year-olds in Sandra Ipana's language class chant through the calendar in Inuvialuktun.

On the floor, elder Emma Dick plays word games with two shy little twin sisters. The posters on the wall are bright and there are plenty of colourful books on the shelves. But even here, where the effort to revive the language of the Inuvialuit is strongest, Ipana says the chances of her young pupils speaking their ancestral tongue in their everyday lives are modest.

"As much as I want to say it, I don't think they'll be fluent,'' Ipana says. "But at least they'll be aware.''

Ipana's struggle to keep Inuvialuktun alive in the mouths of the people who created it is being played out in classrooms and living rooms across the country.

In 1996, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples concluded that the revitalization of traditional languages is a key component in the creation of healthy individuals and communities.

But according to new data released Tuesday by Statistics Canada, almost all of Canada's nearly 60 aboriginal languages are continuing their decades-long slide.

The 2006 census shows that about 21.5 per cent of those who identified themselves as aboriginal said they could fluently speak their ancestral tongue, down from 24 per cent in 2001.

There are exceptions. Inuktitut, spoken by the Inuit, and Cree and Ojibway, two primary languages of the First Nations, appear to be holding their own against the sea of English around them.

Among First Nations, about 29 per cent said they could speak an aboriginal language well enough to carry on a conversation; that's unchanged from 2001. The figure was much higher (51 per cent) on reserve than off reserve (12 per cent).

Interestingly, there are signs First Nations are trying to regain their languages. For example, about 12 per cent of all First Nations who spoke Cree in 2006 learned it as a second language.

Inuktitut remains strong overall, but both knowledge and use are declining. Sixty-nine per cent of Inuit speak Inuktitut, but they are less likely to speak it as their main language at home -- 50 per cent in 2006, down from 58 per cent a decade ago.

The pattern of language loss is well established.

In 1996, Statistics Canada found the passage of aboriginal languages from one generation to the next was gradually breaking down. That year, the agency released data showing that for every 100 aboriginal people who spoke their mother tongue, the number who used it at home declined from 76 to 65 over the previous 15 years.

The reverse scenario unfolds in some isolated enclaves. In northern Labrador, virtually all children in the remote Innu settlement of Natuashish speak Innu-aimun at home and are learning English as their second language in the classroom.

This has posed unusual challenges for the mostly English-speaking teachers at the Mushuau Innu Natuashish School, said principal Jackie Williams.

"Sometimes you try to explain something, and there's just not the words in Innu to explain it.''

While the students speak English to their teachers, they stick to their ancestral language on the playground.

"We might not be aware of the bullying that's going on,'' Williams said.

In 2005, a report commissioned for the federal government found nearly 70 per cent of aboriginal languages in Canada were either declining, endangered or critical.

Although the previous Liberal government promised in 2003 to spend $160 million over 10 years to promote and develop aboriginal languages, none of that money was allocated or spent. The pledge was quietly scaled back in November 2006 by the Harper Tories. Ottawa currently spends $5 million a year on its Aboriginal Language Initiative.

Almost all of the bright lights in Ipana's class now speak Inuvialuktun better than their parents.

"All these kids come from non-speaking homes,'' Williams said.

The same is true a few blocks away in Anna Pingo's Grade 10 Inuvialuktun class.

"The parents went to residential school,'' she explains. "If they spoke the language, they were punished.''

"People in my generation, we're the ones that lost the language.''

Pingo is learning the language herself, staying a few steps ahead of her students who are struggling through basic vocabulary and some simple phrases.

Tiara Bernhardt, a sharp, university-bound 17-year-old, has to ask Pingo for advice before introducing herself in Inuvialuktun.

"Inuvialuktun isn't really spoken much any more, so I don't really think it'll go any farther than in school,'' she says. "I've only been taught it in school, so it hasn't really been a part of my life.''

Still, the Inuvialuit aren't giving up.

A new, more sophisticated curriculum was just introduced last year. Kindergarten students are taught in immersion classes and other students get 30 minutes a day all the way through high school.

"We're moving forward,'' Ipana says. "You have to think positive like that.''

Things have come a long way, says Dick, who's been teaching Inuvialuktun to children for a decade.

"We were just learning ... little odd things,'' she says. "It just about died off and then they got the Inuvialuit texts.''

"I love it. I like the little kids. They all call me Nannuk (grandma).''

The chance to save Inuvialuktun is now, says Pingo -- if people want to save it at all.

"Unless we really pull together as a community, unless we take a stand and say, `This is what we need to do' ... But many of us are on different pages in our life.''

Dick, too, wonders about the future of the language that once surrounded her.

"If they would continue to hear it at home, that would be better, but nobody speaks it at home. They only hear it in class.''

Why, then, learn a language of hunters and whalers in a world of computers and airplanes?

"It's part of my culture, my background, where my grandparents came from,'' says Bernhardt. "I would like to be able to understand more than what I know now.''

Ipana says teaching kids even a little of their ancestral tongue has deeper benefits than just being able to talk about the weather in Inuvialuktun. Some of her students have troubled backgrounds and come in to her class with behaviour problems.

"Once they do that, the behaviour and stuff like that just goes,'' she says. "I've never had any major behaviour problems in here.''

"Sometimes, when they come in here, they're lost.''

"I've seen many, many children leave this classroom different. They're not so sad any more. I try to give them a little bit of their world. Their true world.''

http://www.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/story/CTVNews/20080115/aboriginal_languages_080115?s_name=&no_ads=

Updated Sun. Feb. 10 2008 5:33 PM ET

toronto.ctv.ca

Protesters gathered at Toronto's Metropolitan United Church Sunday, demanding answers about the treatment of First Nations children.

The group planned protests in front of Anglican and Roman Catholic churches to pressure the government to disclose where children from First Nations communities may have been buried after attending residential schools.

The deaths occurred over a century, protesters said. Residential schools have been accused of a number of human rights violations including physical and sexual abuse.

Protesters are using Access to Information laws to help them find the locations of the alleged burial grounds and  have written a letter to the office of Gov. Gen. Michaelle Jean.

Protesters are asking Ottawa and churches to return the childrens' remains.

http://www.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/story/CTVNews/20080210/children_protest/20080210?hub=Canada

Kevin Libin, National Post 

Published: Thursday, February 07, 2008

Shaking up Canada's native establishment

Q&A: Kevin Libin interviews former Indian Affairs minister Robert Nault

Tyler Anderson/National PostA girl plays next to a broken-down school bus at the Kashechewan reserve. Problems at reserves like Kashechewan point to a system of governance that needs fixing.

Six years ago, Robert Whitehead was without a doubt the loudest critic of the Yellow Quill First Nation government. A disgruntled band member, he had publicly chastised the band boss, Chief Hank Neapetung, complaining about band employees -- including teachers and social workers -- stumbling around the Saskatchewan reserve, drunk. He complained about the lack of housing for members and the terrible, rotting conditions of ones already built. The administration, he claimed, was hoarding $29-million in treaty land settlements, rather than spending the much-needed money on member needs. In return for his advocacy, he was beaten up physically, sued by the chief, had his house shot at and his water cut off, and lost his job.

Today, Mr. Whitehead -- Chief Whitehead since 2002, after winning the position in a fluke election (Mr. Neapetung, who had ruled for 18 years, found himself disqualified from the race after failing to attend an all-candidates debate) -- is the one facing criticism. After two tiny sisters were found frozen to death on Tuesday, abandoned in the snow by an apparently drunken father in -50C temperatures, media attention has focused on the appalling conditions on Yellow Quill, located a short drive east of Rose Valley, Sask.

And things don't look much different than they did more than half a decade ago, when Mr. Whitehead took over. The housing shortage is still desperate. The mould problems in existing homes are still making residents sick. Officials continue to turn up drunk. The band-operated service station can usually be found without service but with a sign reading "no gas." And the community, which counts about 2,000 people as members, is "bankrupt," according to the chief.

Mr. Whitehead blames the chronic problems on a paralyzed, dysfunctional council, on intransigent trustees refusing to let him at the multi-million-dollar Yellow Quill nest egg, on band members spreading vicious rumours that he practices mystical "bad medicine" -- everyone, it seems, but himself.

It is common that First Nations politicians who come to office promising reforms end up failing to implement them once elected, says Don Sandberg, Aboriginal Policy Fellow at the Winnipeg-based Frontier Centre for Public Policy think-tank and a member of Manitoba's Norway House First Nation. "Over and over again, you see this happen. The chiefs come in and they see how things are done, and they pick up right where the last chief left off."

Chiefs refusing to take responsibility for troubles on reserves is just as standard. When members of the Piikani Nation were evacuated from their Alberta reserve in November after Health Canada condemned their mouldy, crumbling homes as "unfit" for human habitation, Chief Reg Crowshoe blamed the Indian Affairs department for failing to provide enough homes.

"They're saying they don't have enough money, but we can't wait any longer," he told reporters. What he didn't mention is that just five years earlier, the 1,500-member Piikani had been handed $64-million by the province and Ottawa in a settlement over a dispute over a dam project. Ottawa sent another $450,000 in housing assistance to the reserve in 2006. Today, there are 500 Piikani still waiting for such houses, and despite the fact that Indian Affairs routinely allows First Nations to use settlement money for necessities, the band insists it cannot afford to fix the ones it has.

Ottawa took the blame again when Ontario's Kashechewan reserve was evacuated in 2005 after E.Coli was found in the water system. Under immense pressure, the government dropped in hundreds of thousands of dollars in cases of bottled water into the community, sent a Canadian Forces deployment of over 40 engineers and soldiers to install and operate a 10-tonne reverse osmosis purifier, designed to filter water contaminated by chemical weapons, while the province arranged a mass airlift of 1,100 reserve residents.

At first, Kashechewan looked a heartbreaking tale of an aboriginal community left to suffer with rundown, underfunded infrastructure. Then it turned out that the water treatment plant was just 10 years old -- probably newer than the one connected to your kitchen faucet -- and the band had received $800,000 for upgrades just a year before the crisis. When a water engineer from Red Lake arrived, he found the problem: a plugged chlorine injector. It was a $30 part and took him all of six hours to make the water drinkable again. The plant managers had never been trained to operate the water treatment facility. When the automatic alarm system began annoyingly ringing years before, warning of contaminated water, they had simply unplugged it.

The failure of First Nations governments to manage the most basic of public services is, unfortunately, not uncommon. Canada's auditor general reports that roughly three-quarters of all First Nations were being run by inexperienced, untrained staff and that there exists a shortage of about 80,000 homes on reserves across the country. Were politicians so bungling in such critical areas in any other Canadian community, heads would roll. They certainly did in Walkerton where even Ontario's premier was made to answer, before an inquiry, for contaminated water. In Walkerton, however, politicians are answerable to those they govern. That is not how things work on the reserve.

It is understandable that chiefs are quick to deny accountability to their members when things go horribly wrong. In reality, they simply aren't accountable. Not to their citizens, anyway. Whether or not Canadians choose to recognize First Nations as a constitutionalized level of government (and it remains a matter of deep debate, particularly within the department of Indian Affairs itself), the reality is that Ottawa entrusts a huge amount of governmental responsibilities -- schooling, health, public services -- to chief and council. And it is to the federal government that the chiefs, in turn, report -- not their people. As a result, most First Nations are administered in ways unresembling even minimal standards of democratic governance.

Nearly all Canadians have an expectation that any public official in charge of urban planning, water systems or health administration has some kind of experience and training. Not so on reserves. Positions are frequently allotted to members wholly unqualified to hold them, either out of nepotism, patronage or simply because there are no properly trained or educated people to hire.

"In our talent pool, we don't have thousands of people to pick from," says Clarence Louie, chief of B.C.'s Osoyoos Indian Band, who created a human resources department to ensure hires made by his council are properly qualified.

Band jobs are sometimes the only ones available, and almost always the highest paid, which puts chiefs under a great deal of pressure to spread them to friends and family first. It is also not unusual to find chiefs securing power banana-republic-style, rigging elections, bribing voters with cash or other prizes. "The one with the most relatives usually wins, because he's the one who's going to hand out money to the relatives," says Mr. Sandberg.

Members of First Nations regularly complain of not being able to vote in band elections when they live off reserve, in violation of a Supreme Court ruling protecting their franchise. In 2000, the Mohawk band council of Kahnewake in Quebec evicted and revoked the voting rights of any members who were not able to verify they had the minimum amount of Indian "blood quantum" -- uncontaminated by racial mixing -- because, as one Mohawk official coldly put it, less-than-pureblood individuals were not "positively contributing to our community."

In advance of one Norway House election, Mr. Sandberg says that 392 voters were struck from the rolls, while the chief crammed a warehouse with refrigerators, stoves and other basic appliances, to hand out to those who would back him.

"Once the chief's in, they have total control of funding and when anyone runs against them they're running against millions of dollars," says Rod Sutherland, a former councilman from Peguis First Nation, in Manitoba, where long-time chief Louis Stevenson was recently accused of stacking the public service and boards with cronies, and entering into secret deals with lenders, without band approval (the allegations have not been proven in court).

Electoral officers, in charge of preserving the integrity of the voting process, aren't much use: They are appointed directly by the chief, leaving open the possibility of backroom deals (on Peguis, Mr. Sutherland says, the chief and his longtime electoral officer were, at one point, in business together).

When reports surfaced in 2005 that members of Saskatchewan's Red Pheasant First Nation had allegedly sold their mail-in ballots to a candidate for chief -- one member claimed to have received a three-bedroom trailer -- the chief electoral officer, who admitted she took unsealed ballot boxes home with her, refused to intervene, insisting it wasn't her job to monitor vote buying. The same officer was in charge of an election on the nearby Mosquito First Nation where "Individuals provided money to electors in exchange for votes and mail-in ballots, forged voter declaration forms and mail-in ballots, and intercepted and destroyed valid mail-in ballots," according to a federal investigation that same year.

On other reserves, members suspected of supporting opposition candidates have been threatened with losing assistance cheques, single mothers with having their kids taken away by social workers. Unscrupulous band governments will not only close meetings to the public, but will hold them off reserve entirely. Away from their members' eyes, they are free to manipulate finances for their own gain. In Saskatchewan, the council of one Saulteaux band, comprised of just 800 members, was recently found to have spent more on travel expenses in a single year than the entire cabinet of the province -- with the chief alone spending more than $175,000. Not surprisingly, a 2003 Ekos research poll conducted for Indian and Northern Affairs Canada found that just 37% of on-reserve aboriginals considered the performance of their band's government to be "good" or better.

The reason is not hard to discern. While democratic government in non-native communities keeps politicians answerable to voters, on reserves, the chief and council report only to the department of Indian and Northern Affairs. Making matters worse, those local chiefs are the same ones who go on to elect the grand regional chiefs and national chief to the Assembly of First Nations. In other words, about 600 chiefs elect someone who claims to speak for 700,000 status Indians. Leaders have a strong incentive not to elect grand or national chiefs who might make their lives difficult by demanding reforms, leaving almost nothing to check the band council's typically unfettered power.

"If a grand chief were to come into a First Nation to try and solve all the [governance] problems, he would be fired so fast his head would be spinning," Mr. Sandberg says. In 2003, an Indian Affairs poll showed that then minister Robert Nault's Bill C-7, the First Nations Governance Act, designed to provide bands a codified system of elections and financial management, was backed by a majority of First Nations people. The AFN, however, was opposed to the legislation and eventually convinced then Prime Minister Paul Martin to dump it and create, instead, the Kelowna Accord, a deal that would have, had it not been cancelled by the incoming Tory government, sent billions more in cash to band chiefs in the name of improving education and health, but came with few strings attached.

Of course, having local chiefs elect a provincial or national leader makes no more sense than having all Manitoba's mayors, animated as they are by their own local political agendas, choose the premier. "Mostly what they [local chiefs] are looking for is more government money passing through their hands, basically, so a little bit of it sticks," says Calvin Helin, a Vancouver aboriginal lawyer and author of last year's Dances with Dependency: Indigenous Success Through Self-Reliance.

The only way around that, he says, is to ensure that the head of the AFN, the most powerful aboriginal in Canada and the one who often has the prime minister's ear, is actually elected directly by Canada's aboriginal people, through a general vote. "We can do that these days by a referendum," Mr. Helin says. "It used to be a case where the geography was a barrier, but with the Internet these days, and all of the sorts of things we have at our disposal, everything is possible."

There are certainly chiefs and councils who take their responsibilities to members seriously, run clean elections and govern with integrity. But as long as Ottawa sends money directly to First Nations bosses who are then, in turn, in charge of doling funds out to band members in the form of housing allowances, social assistance and, often, jobs, members will always depend on their politicians, rather than the other way around.

"If there are any problems, they are not answerable to their community. They are answerable to the Minister of Indian Affairs. That is just a recipe for corruption," says Mr. Helin. "It would be like us voting for a Prime Minister in Canada and then having him responsible to Westminster Abbey. It would be absurd."

But creating political accountability on reserves can be done. What is missing is the one mechanism that, off-reserve, inspires citizens to hold their leaders to task, namely, the exercise of paying tax and demanding it be used responsibly.

"Taxation is one of the most fundamental things" for proper governance, says Tom Flanagan, a political science professor at the University of Calgary who studies, and has written several books on, aboriginal policy.

He argues that if Ottawa were to begin sending financial support directly to individual reserve residents, requiring band councils to tax it back for public expenditures, First Nations members, like most Canadians, would naturally take a much deeper interest in ensuring that government revenues are being used properly and with efficiency, and have the power to do something if it weren't. Studies by Robert Bish, formerly co-director of the University of Victoria's Local Government Institute, found that in every country where a government has derived the majority of its funds from something other than taxes, government services have deteriorated, with Norway and its oil revenues standing as the sole exception.

To be sure, taxes would not end scandalous governance on reserves completely, just as taxpayers off reserves were not spared the Liberal sponsorship scandal or the MFP computer leasing fiasco in Toronto. But it is an important start to ending much of it.

"The need to tax does not guarantee good government, but the absence of the need to tax usually guarantees bad government," writes John Richards, the former Saskatchewan MLA and Simon Fraser University public policy professor, in his 2006 book Creating Choices: Rethinking Aboriginal Policy.

It is easy to see why: When politicians have to start convincing voters to part with cash, citizens are more apt to begin scrutinizing who they elect and how they devise spending priorities. It provides voters the power to check the size of government, something that can otherwise grow as large and expensive as the politicians themselves desire. (For an idea of what uncontrolled size can lead to, consider the Stoney First Nation, west of Calgary, which has three chiefs and 12 councillors for just a few thousand members; the Ottawa-based Institute on Governance last year reported that the average First Nation spends ten times more per capita on governance than the average Canadian municipality).

When First Nations people begin paying their own way for the band's administration, the many missing or flawed governance institutions that exist on most reserves -- auditing agencies, independent electoral officers, term limits for chiefs -- would arouse attention, and if taxpayers demanded it, adjustment. Meanwhile, those members making enough money to fix their own broken windows or replace their own roofs would suddenly get resistance from neighbours when they demand the band pay for repairs from the treasury -- a kitty that members today understandably see as money not their own, but money for the taking. At the very least, there is a good chance that taxpayers would demand that their houses and water aren't diseased. In fact, a look at the Community Well-Being Index compiled for Indian and Northern Affairs Canada shows as much: Many of the First Nations communities recognized to have implemented more progressive standards of governance are almost always the highest ranking reserves on the index.

More accountable leadership is certainly the route to making any welfare state run more effectively and responsibly, leaving the question of how public money should be allocated to those best prepared to make that call, the members themselves. Just as importantly, however, it has the added and important benefit of creating an environment where businesspeople from outside the reserve feel more comfortable, potentially encouraging them to bring investment and jobs to on-reserve natives.

The bizarre strictures of the Indian Act make contracts and leases already difficult to enforce within the legal grey zone that reserves exist, and are sometimes simply ripped up by councils who decide they no longer wish to honour them: Open something as basic as a video store in a band-owned strip mall and there is little to stop council, should it desire, from one day evicting you, confiscating your inventory and deciding to run the shop itself.

Better councils don't eliminate investment risks created by the Indian Act, but they can reduce them. The Harvard Project on American Indian Economic Development concluded after a study of the most prosperous tribes in the U.S. in 2000, that "poverty in Indian Country is a political problem -- not an economic one." Tribes that succeed have in common a few key characteristics, it noted. Among the most important: "They settle disputes fairly," and that "sends a signal to investors of all kinds that their contributions will not be expropriated unfairly." In addition, "they separate the functions of elected representation and business management," which counters the urge of politicians to "interfere in business on behalf of voters." Look at the Canadian bands that have gone furthest in implementing governmental reform and you will find they are in virtually every case the same ones who have managed to lure millions of dollars in investment.

Clarence Louie, chief of the prosperous Osoyoos Indian Band, created an economic development corporation to distance band business - including a winery and a vacation condo development with Calgary-based Bellstar Hotels and Resorts -- from political interference, and hired a former executive from juice giant Sun Rype Products Ltd., from off the reserve, as chief operating officer.

In Sydney, Nova Scotia, the Membertou First Nation posts all its band finances online and in 2001 achieved International Organization for Standardization (ISO) 9001:2000 certification, verifying the band had met globally recognized business standards. In barely a decade, Membertou has gone from scraping by on a $4.5 million annual budget, nearly all federal transfers, to collecting $65 million annual revenues from partnerships in seafood processing, tourism, retail, and high tech industries.

On the Westbank First Nation in BC, Chief Rob Louie recognized that the reserve political system as it is typically structured provides no mechanism for the industry concerns to be heard. So, in 2005, when Westbank attained self-government status (which required it to clear several high hurdles to demonstrate sufficient levels of accountability and transparency) it enshrined in its band legislation laws requiring the establishment of an advisory council representing non-member business interest. Another Westbank law applies the Judicial Review Procedures Act of B.C. to Westbank lands, in essence, volunteering Westbank to be accountable to the same legal system businesses rely upon to protect them off-reserve. Indian Affairs calls Westbank "one of the most economically successful Aboriginal communities in Canada."

There are a dozen other bands like this, maybe two dozen. In every case the formula works pretty much the same: when First Nations people are given real control over their leadership and the fate of their own lives, they start demanding, and getting, things we all want: thriving economies, well-paying jobs, access to housing, effective government services, and water they can drink without getting sick.

Julie Smyth, National Post 

Published: Thursday, February 07, 2008

Week 3: Problems of governance

Q&A: Kevin Libin interviews Robert Nault, former Indian Affairs minister

Robert Nault, former minister of Indian Affairs, takes your questions

Pat McGrath/Canwest News ServicePatrick Brazeau, National Chief of the Congress of Aboriginal Peoples, hasn't won many friends in traditional native leadership but he does have admirers, including Stephen Harper.

OTTAWA -- Patrick Brazeau's office is in a grey building set back from the road on a busy commercial strip, halfway between a Mister Muffler and car leasing company in Ottawa's east end. It is the sort of place easily missed. The second-floor suite, decorated with polar bears and aboriginal crafts, is standard but for one thing: A collection of framed photos of him and senior Conservatives. Hanging by the door are two pictures of him and Prime Minister Stephen Harper and several of him with Cabinet ministers.

Mr. Brazeau is the National Chief of the Congress of Aboriginal Peoples, a group that split from the Assembly of First Nations and represents off-reserve natives and Métis people. He is 33, fairly new to aboriginal politics and is seen as a rabble-rouser -- he was the only native leader to support the Conservatives in the last election, has taken on the AFN and its National Chief, Phil Fontaine, set up a blog to provoke debate on contentious issues (he calls it "Chief Chat") and is intentionally provocative. He wants an end to all national aboriginal groups, including the AFN ("That should be the end game," he says) and, not surprisingly, has made few friends in the aboriginal establishment.

His route to this high-level political career has certainly been unconventional -- two years in the naval reserves and a brief career as a model. Mr. Brazeau, who has a handsome face, ties his hair back in a ponytail and wears a silver ring in one ear, worked some fashion shows, tried to get acting jobs and was offered a role in a Molson Export commercial, which he turned down to pursue his career at CAP. The modelling, he says "was never anything serious," but his good looks have helped draw attention to his cause.

He joined the Congress in 2000, became its leader in 2006, and since, has steered a course away from other native groups. He did not support Paul Martin's Kelowna Accord because he says it lacked accountability. When he turned up at the Throne Speech as a guest of the Tory government, there were raised eyebrows. The AFN was angry when Mr. Harper declined to attend one of its meetings but gave a speech at one of CAP's big events.

For his part, Mr. Brazeau says he is non-partisan (his Congress has not decided who to back next election) and he is unapologetic about supporting the Tories. He sent 10 questions to all of the parties in the last election: There was no response from the Liberal Party and a seven-page detailed letter from Mr. Harper, then leader of the Opposition. He says the Liberals did not respond after the fallout of the Kelowna Accord. "We took that as a sign of disrespect."

He seems to revel in the controversy his leadership has created: "I think in order for change to happen you sometimes have to be provocative, you have to at least ask questions and demand greater accountability. That is ruffling a lot of feathers, it is scaring a lot of people."

He says that most of the backlash he has received is from the Assembly of First Nations, which, he says, is run by an "elitist few."

There has been a long-standing rift among rival native groups in Canada - some claim to represent the same constituents and they bicker over funding, policy and membership lists - but it has deepened since Mr. Brazeau took over CAP.

He believes he has something different to bring to the debate: "Being a young aboriginal person, I have heard a lot of the same old messaging and rhetoric on the part of some of our leadership - asking for more money and not taking ownership and responsibility for their own actions and basically promoting the status quo."

His supporters write flattering remarks on his blog and back his calls for dramatic change. But he has also been the subject of what he calls "personal jabs." He was born in Maniwaki, Que., and spent most of his childhood 1,000 metres from the Kitigan Zibi reserve. His grandmother was born on the reserve but married a non-native, which meant she lost her status and had to leave. In 1985, an amendment to the Indian Act, Bill C-31, returned her status and meant Mr. Brazeau became recognized as an Algonquin Indian.

Still, on Internet chat sites, his critics refer to him as "white."

People like Jean-Guy Whiteduck, former chief of the Kitigan Zibi reserve for 30 years, and a distant cousin to Mr. Brazeau, regard him as an opportunist with questionable ties to the community. "He was not involved in First Nations politics until recently. He has had very little involvement and limited understanding."

But his biggest foe since entering political life has been Mr. Fontaine. And no wonder.

The Congress released a report last month called "Where Does the Money Go?", which raised concerns about how public money is allocated for native groups. Mr. Brazeau talks about how off-reserve natives receive $1 for every $8 given to on-reserve natives, despite 79% of aboriginal people living off reserves, and questions the $111-million given to the AFN to run its organization. (The government also funds the Congress - close to $9-million a year - and he earns a public salary of $99,000 a year.)

In one unpleasant exchange, the leader of the AFN approached Mr. Brazeau when the pair was part of the federal government's budget blitz on Parliament Hill. "Chief Fontaine approached me, and grabbing me by the arm, pleaded to me that we ‘have to stop saying that we don't need more money,'" said Mr. Brazeau.

"I think that many aboriginal peoples across this country believe that governments, because of past wrongdoings, owe them something," he says in an interview. He argues that while governments have a responsibility, there should be less reliance on public handouts.

Some of his ideas are not original - they are shared by other national organizations and suggested in a royal commission years ago. He is a proponent of abolishing the Indian Act, as are others, but says there is little will to change: "A lot of leaders, including the leader of the AFN, will say we need to get rid of the Indian Act but, let's face it, the Indian Act is what has created the Assembly of First Nations and has created the reserve system and all 600-plus chiefs. They need the Indian Act to hold on to their power."

He would like to see a return to the traditional system before the Indian Act - an Algonquin nation, a Cree nation, and so on. He thinks each group should set up its own accountability structure under new legislation, with 60 to 80 chiefs replacing 633 chiefs.

By the time any of this happens - if indeed it does - he may have moved on, though.

Mr. Brazeau has always wanted to get into federal politics. He says he has been approached by Liberals and Conservatives, though has not had any serious offers.

For now, he says, "I am with the Congress" and he is busy with his family life - he lives in Gatineau, Que., with his wife, who has an aboriginal crafts business, and has three children, aged 13, seven and two.

At the end of the interview, he cannot help returning to the topic of Mr. Fontaine and his group: "The AFN national chief said he represents all First Nations people. Well, I'm a First Nations person and I did not give him that right to represent me. As a matter of fact, he living off-reserve, means I represent him," he adds, smiling.

It's tit-for-tat, he says, and there is surely more to come.

http://www.nationalpost.com/news/canada/rethinkingthereserve/story.html?id=280528