Ceremony as Remedy? A Heiltsuk resource for doing TRC#28 work in the law school.

big-house-20191013
Bella Bella Big House – Photo credit Charity Gladstone/Canadian Press

In the fall of 2019, the news carried the story of an Indigenous man and his granddaughter who were detained and handcuffed in the context of trying to open a bank account at a branch of the Bank of Montreal in Vancouver.  In short, a bank teller had ‘become suspicious’ that fraud was involved, and the RCMP were called. The pair were detained and handcuffed in front of the bank. The RCMP determined within the hour that there was no criminal activity, and the bank later agreed that it had been a mistake to call the police. Here is a link to Angela Sterritt’s report on what happened to the grandfather and granddaughter, both Heiltsuk from the community of Bella Bella.

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/indigenous-girl-grandfather-handcuffed-bank-1.5419519

There was significant national and international media swirl around the case.  Angela Sterritt played an important part in keeping the issue prominent, and with a lens that focused on the Indigenous experience of commercial racism.

What is exciting here is seeing what the Heiltsuk actually DID in response to the injury that had been caused to their members — they held a “Washing Ceremony”.  Here is  Rafferty Baker’s report for CBC.  https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/bmo-heiltsuk-bella-bella-ceremony-1.5483320

maxwell-johnson
Maxwell Johnson said being in the community’s big house brings him a solace that the incident at BMO disrupted. (Angela Sterritt)

What the Heiltsuk have done in this case is to take action on the basis of Heiltsuk law. I do not know very much about the Heiltsuk washing ceremony, and I suspect that few of us teaching in law schools do, but the Heiltsuk conducted the ceremony in a way that can help non-Heiltsuk begin learning about their obligations and responsibilities under Heiltsuk law, as well as about Heiltsuk ways of addressing harms and injuries.

Angela Sterritt was invited to participate as a witness to the ceremony, and the community agreed that media could be part of this conversation.  Thus, these reports provides a lens for learning about (and teaching about) this work.  Here is her CBC report,”Indigenous Ceremony tries to right wrong caused by handcuffing of grandfather and granddaughter. (https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/reporter-s-notebook-grandfather-handcuffed-bank-1.5484448

There is also a twitter feed that fleshes out this experience. https://twitter.com/AngelaSterritt/status/1235040345722720257

HOW MIGHT THIS BE DRAWN INTO THE CLASSROOM?

For people thinking about how they might respond to the TRC Calls to Action in their own classrooms, this case provides many powerful lessons, and directions for engagement.  It could also be draw into a number of different classroom contexts.

  • One might think of this case through a criminal law lens. The story offers space for looking at the law around detention, reasonable grounds/reasonable suspicion. It also asks about the place of private citizens (or corporations) in ‘policing’ the spaces of commerce and economy. There is lots here that raises questions about what racial profiling looks like when it is performed by private rather than public actors.
  • One might also think of this case through a tort law lens. Again, what does ‘wrongful arrest’ look like in the tort context? What duty of care do banks owe to customers? And what precisely is the harm? What kind of damages would repair the injury done? And who precisely is responsible for the injury: the bank teller? the police officers? the bank manager? the board of directors?
  • The question of WHO is responsible for the harm also raises the kinds of questions that come up in the context of not only corporate crime, but also corporate torts. That is, there are questions raised here about institutional actors (corporations). What theories of liability and responsibility are most appropriate when intention and action are differentially distributed through a corporate structure.  There is much in this case that can provide background for addressing Call to Action #92.
  • And of course, WHOSE LAW applies to injuries such as these? This is a particularly live question in BC where questions about unceded territory, and the limits of state sovereignty continue to take centre ground.  [NOTE: a super helpful resource on Sovereignty in BC is Claxton, Nicholas XEMTOLTW, and John Price. “Whose Land Is It? Rethinking Sovereignty in British Columbia.” BC Studies 204 (2019-2020): 125-48.  I would HIGHLY recommend putting this on your summer reading list or in your curriculum for the students].

 

In both the Sterritt and Rafferty accounts of the ceremony, there are some spaces for opening the conversation. Things to note:

  • The harm to Maxwell Johnson and his granddaughter is identified as having both individual and collective elements: There was an injury not only to the two of them, but to the community as a whole.
  • The community as a whole stepped in to focus on repairing the harm to the grandfather and granddaughter. The ceremony enabled a public acknowledgement and witnessing of the harm, and an opportunity for him to speak about that harm to those representing the bank.
  • 15 representatives from the bank were present. Their job was to hear the expression of hurt and anger.  They were not (like other witnesses) given a space to speak. There is something interesting and important here in thinking about the role of taking public responsibility (at least of thinking about the different ways that acknowledgement might work). Also something important about the place of listening without responding.
  • Witnesses were called, so there is a public memory of the event, and of the removal of shame from the grandfather and granddaughter.  Witnesses play an important role in keeping the memory of the ceremony alive. The focus here, even if involving representatives of the Bank of Montreal, is on the Heiltsuk taking action to relieve the harm caused by others (my point is that the job of repairing and restoring is carried not only by the ‘person who did the harm’, but also of the full community in which the member is embedded).  The work of healing from the injury is not confined to the person who did the injury.
  • The ceremony seemed designed not with the primary goal of ‘punishing’ the bank, but with the goal of healing and repair.   It presumes that a piece of this means attending to the work of ongoing relationships (ie. many people will still have their money in the bank…so what is needed to repair trust?).  This ceremony does not wash the stain off the bank members (as far as I can tell).  It is focused on repair.  But at the same time, it makes a space for the bank to participate in doing their own acts of restoration, rehabilitation, acknowledgement and repair.   Part of the remedy seems to involve drawing them closer into relationship rather than just pushing them away. The representatives of the Bank were gifted, blanketed, and given a role in the ceremony. The remedy, in effect, is one which helps those responsible for the injury to learn more about both the Heiltsuk, about the impact of the injury, and about what it might mean to repair an injury in ways that go beyond apology or monetary compensation (particularly if one asks also about the harm to the community)
  • Note that, in attending the ceremony, the Bank of Montreal was in a sense acceding to Heiltsuk law.   Maybe ‘acceding’ is too strong a word, but at the very least, they came to the Ceremony without being ‘required to’ by a court action, or contract.  Rather, they took their lead from the Heiltsuk, and agreed to come and occupy a role in ceremony designed to heal the injury done.  One might imagine conflicts over what reconciliation is or isn’t, but one can see in this decision an action that affirms the legitimacy of a Heiltsuk response.
  • the Washing Ceremony was conducted in the Big House. The Bella Bella Big house was newly reconstructed (after 120 years). The Big House is the venue for important public ceremonial and spiritual business. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/heiltsuk-big-house-ceremony-   It is significant and moving to see the new space (“a living space”) being put into action right away.
bmo-in-bella-bella
Representatives from the Bank of Montreal take part in a washing ceremony in Bella Bella. They were invited there by the Heiltsuk Nation in an effort to repair the damage done when two members of the Heiltsuk community were arrested at a Vancouver BMO branch in December. (Shawn Foss/CBC)

This is an important case to think with and through.  It is one for conversation in the law schools, both between us as colleagues and with our students.   There are undoubtedly a number of other resources that could help us begin to think about this case as a helpful resources for responding to the TRC calls in our classrooms.  If this is a case you have been thinking about too, please feel free to add more links into the comments.   This is a story worth learning from!

 

Implementing Indigenous Law in Agreements – Learning from “An Agreement Concerning the Stewardship of the Witness Blanket”

witness blanket

In October of 2019, through ceremony conducted in Kumugwe (the K’omoks First Nation Bighouse), the Canadian Museum for Human Rights (CMHR) and Artist Carey Newman entered into “An Agreement Concerning the Stewardship of the Witness Blanket – A National Monument to Recognize the Atrocities of Indian Residential Schools” . Under this agreement, the Witness Blanket would find a permanent home in the Canadian Museum for Human Rights in Winnipeg.

https://humanrights.ca/exhibition/the-witness-blanket

A group of us from the Indigenous Law Research Unit at UVic had the privilege of being present at the Ceremony, watching as artist Carey Newman and the CMHR  (through its President and CEO John Young) entered into an agreement to be Joint Stewards to the Witness Blanket.  This agreement  is on the cutting edge of transsystemmic law.  It is governed, shaped, and enacted through a weaving together of Indigenous and Canadian legal understandings and protocols.  It contains both written and oral commitments.  More specifically, it draws both Kwakwaka’wakw traditional legal orders and Canadian Common Law into collaborative engagement.   Click on the link below to read more about the Ceremony.

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/art-and-architecture/article-the-witness-blanket-an-installation-of-residential-school-artifacts/ 

The experience of reading the Written Agreement and of attending the Ceremony was powerful on so many levels.  In particular, it was an inspiration and education on what might be possible in the work of law, as we think about next steps forward in legal education and practice.

Drawing on this experience, we drew on the Witness Blanket during the January segment of our Legal Process class this year.   In this post, we share a number of resources that might be helpful for people in law wanting to think more about many of the things to learn from both the Witness Blanket, and the Stewardship Agreement.  At the end of the post are a few comments on our own first experiences of drawing the Witness Blanket into the law school classroom.

We note here that the Agreement is shared with the permission of both Carey Newman and the Canadian Museum of Human Rights. Their willingness to have the agreement shared and made publicly visible is both a gift, and a teaching.  There is more to be said about this teaching, and about the powerful work of Ceremony, and the Oral component of this agreement.  I hope to return to those in a later post.

Here is a copy of the Agreement itself:

Witness Blanket Stewardship Agreement v04.4

This is an ‘annotated copy’ of the Agreement (Rebecca’s annotations) designed to organize some thoughts and make visible some aspects of the Agreement that can generate important conversations.

Annotated Witness Blanket Stewardship Agreement

BACKGROUND:   What IS the Witness Blanket?

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Carey Newman and the Witness Blanket (photo credit: Doug Little/CMHR)

For those who have not yet encountered the Witness Blanket, it is described on its website as follows:

Inspired by a woven blanket, we have created a large scale art installation, made out of hundreds of items reclaimed from Residential Schools, churches, government buildings and traditional and cultural structures including Friendship Centres, band offices, treatment centres and universities, from across Canada. The Witness Blanket stands as a national monument to recognise the atrocities of the Indian Residential School era, honour the children, and symbolise ongoing reconciliation.

http://witnessblanket.ca/

THE DOCUMENTARY

There is a wonderful documentary on the Witness Blanket, produced by Carey Newman and Cody Graham of M1 Films https://m1films.ca/portfolio_page/witness-blanket/.  Below is a link to the Trailer for the movie.

 

There are two versions of the Documentary: one is 90 minutes, and the other is 55 minutes (edited down to make it easier for teachers to show it during a standard class time).  You can contact the CMHR to arrange to have it streamed (no cost involved).

The documentary is powerful in so many ways, and can open room for many conversations:

  • It gets at the history and legacy of residential schools
  • It provides an introduction to the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement
  • It enables one to listen to the voices of a number of survivors, and does this in ways that are contextualized and respectful, and which take up land, place, voice, memory, and more
  • it gets at the intergenerational transfer of trauma, and at avenues for disrupting those injuries and patterns (for Indigenous and non-Indigenous people alike)
  • it opens space for looking at the relationships between art and law (including questions about problem solving, process, creativity and collaboration)

THE BOOK

51YgZU4Je7L._SY461_BO1,204,203,200_

Another great resource for background is a book about Witness Blanket, called ‘Picking up the Pieces”.  The book contains a collection of  stories and reflections on segments of the larger blanket.  It has many colour photos, and lots of closeups, and is organized so that you can explore small pieces of the Blanket in more intimate detail (along with stories related to the objects)

 

MEDIA CONVERSATIONS

Another resource is a 24 minute interview with Carey Newman on the APTN Program “Face-to-Face.”  He was being interviewed at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, during the launch of the book and Documentary “Picking up the Pieces: The Making of the Witness Blanket”.  It is a lovely introduction to both the artist, and the work.  Carey Newman speaks about community based and collaborative art practice, and there are some very interesting parallels there to legal practice and processes.  Also some lovely thoughts on how to carry ‘the weight’ of difficult stories.  I very much appreciated his comments about challenges in the ways we (artists and lawyers) attempt to tell complex and multi-layered stories.

 

 

A SIDE NOTE ON THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE WITNESS BLANKET, THE TRC AND THE IRRSA

It can be worth making visible the relationships between the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement (IRSSA), the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and the Witness Blanket.  There were 5 main components to the IRSSA (which was the settlement of the largest class action in Canadian History.   The first three involved agreements about payments that would be made to the parties to the action (still living survivors from a list of 139 schools co-managed by the federal government and 4 church organizations).  But the last two components aimed at involving all Canadians in the discussion, and in the work ahead.  These were:

  • The establishment of the TRUTH AND RECONCILIATION COMMISSION; and
  • The establishment of a fund to produce works of COMMEMORATION.

Of some significance is the fact that both the TRC and the Commemoration projects serve to benefit all of Canada.  That is, you can see both these projects as funded not by the government or churches, but by the survivors themselves (as they chose to direct payments forward to the future, rather than directly to themselves).  A moving gift to all of us.

And so, The Witness Blanket is one of the projects that emerged from the Commemoration component of the IRSSA, and is thus designed to engage all Canadians in the work of Truth and Reconciliation.   For more on the Terms of Reference for both the TRC and the Commemoration fund, you can follow the link below (see Schedule J and Schedule N:

http://www.residentialschoolsettlement.ca/settlement.html

The federal government also has a webpage that organizes some information around Indian Schools Settlement Agreement (including summaries and links to more information on both the TRC and the Commemoration Projects.

https://www.aadnc-aandc.gc.ca/eng/1100100015576/1100100015577

SOME COMMENTS ON TEACHING WITH THE AGREEMENT

As mentioned at the beginning, we used the Agreement as part of our teaching during the during our Legal Process course in January.   Legal Process is a mandatory class for our first year students.  The majority of the class occurs in the first two weeks of September.  It is an intensive course where the students spend the two weeks in a combination of small and large group settings.  In the context of the small sections, they work in groups of 20 or so students and 3 teachers.  They return to those groups in January for 2 mornings which have been devoted in recent years to TRC work.

This year, the first morning focused primarily on the TRC, and the second morning on the Witness Blanket.   The second morning, there were three primary activities related to the Witness Blanket:

  • The students watched the Witness Blanket documentary as a group (an hour)
  • Students then met in their small groups to read the Stewardship Agreement.  They were given an “assignment” to help guide them in their reading.  Note, the premise of the assignment was that students could imagine themselves wanting to produce a postcast episode about the Witness Blanket.  There was no expectation that they would in fact complete such a task, but the hope was that this imagined activity might help guide their reading in ways that would direct their attention to the importance of sound, image, translation, collaboration and more.
  • Students returned with their questions to meet as a large group, where, through the magic of a Video linkup, they were able to listen to Heather Bidzinski (Head of Collections – Canadian Museum for Human Rights).  She spoke to them about her participation in the creation of the Stewardship Agreement, in the Oral Ceremony, and about challenges, lessons learned, and what is being carried forward through this form of legal work.

One of the powerful take away lessons for me came in Heather Bidzinski’s comments to the students that there were nearly a dozen prior versions of the Agreement, and that the work of arriving at the ‘final version’ involved more than two years of ‘building relations’. In short, she told them that the most powerful learnings came in the work PRIOR to the signing of the agreement.  The magic, she argued, is not so much IN the written text as it is in the RELATIONSHIP that was built between the Parties as they spent time and energy learning more about the ways they might work with each other.

This insight is helpful in thinking about how we do the work of teaching about the TRC in the classroom.   There is lots to be said about the concrete lessons plans and teaching materials, but also lots to be said about what we learn in the process of planning and trying to implement those plans.   Doing TRC related work is affectively challenging, and can require much from both faculty and from students.   One can anticipate that this work is more or less difficult for different students.  It is helpful to remain reflexive in the exercises, as there will be things to learn in each encounter about way to support learning, both by students and professors.  We acknowledge that we are baby-learners in this work, and that there are a number of bumps and bruises (both to ourselves and others) as we try to move ourselves along this path.

Some things we considered in setting up the exercise included:

  • There is great power in film to help convey some of these histories.   The Witness Blanket documentary is particularly powerful in this regard.  Let the students know this in advance, so they can be prepared for the different learning that can be enabled where they can see/hear/feel an argument.
  • Let the students know in advance that some of the students (and faculty and staff) have personal experience with residential school histories.  It is important to be alert to this in dealing with each other, and kindness and care are crucial.  The more advance notice, the better.  There is power in watching a film in a group, but it is also possible to leave space for students to do the watching in smaller or more intimate contexts.
  • If the material is linked to a mandatory element (as ours is), then it can be helpful to create space for some students who have concerns to complete the requirement through an alternative exercise (that does not require them to be in the classroom with other students).
  • We involved our Amicus team (counsellors and cultural support people), so that there were people and resources to support students for whom the affective load of the material felt too high.
  • For at least part of the time, students worked in small groups.  Each group had two professors and a grad student assigned to it, so there would be a range of experiences to draw on and from.
  • Advance workshops for faculty or students on Trauma-informed practice can be helpful.  It also can be useful to create space for Faculty to work with each other in advance, so that they feel comfortable both with the material, and in working with students.  It is helpful to remember that we, like the students, are often coming to the game with some gaps in prior knowledge about residential schools.  Some tenderness and care with each other (and not only with the students) can be very helpful in doing TRC work in the law school.

There is undoubtedly more to say, and there are many ways to learn with and from the Witness Blanket Agreement.    Certainly, for those of us in Law, the work of truth and reconciliation is the work of a lifetime.  It is hopeful having models to look at, models that can help us think through more useful questions about ways to do the work. The hope is that these resources/links can provide some context for others to also explore the power of this Agreement for the teaching and practice of law.

We would love to hear ideas and thoughts about things you have tried in your own classrooms and law schools, as well as comments about things that might be done differently!

Teaching with Love: Inside and Outside the Law School Classroom

Author meets Readers: Law’s Indigenous Ethics[1]

Laws Indigenous Ethics

 

A question that I have been thinking about for a while is some version of “What role should love play in a legal education?”

The question is partly prompted by the work of bell hooks, when she argues — “When as teachers we teach with love, combining care, commitment, knowledge, responsibility, respect, and trust, we are often able to enter the classroom and go straight to the heart of the matter.  That means having the clarity to know what to do on any given day to create the best climate for learning.”[2]

It is also partly prompted by the work of Susan Bandes, and other scholars of Law and Emotions, who argues with her colleague Jeremy Blumenthal that “there is mounting evidence that emotion cannot be cordoned off from ethical and moral judgment without impairing both ethical judgment and well-being; such evidence has broad implications for the teaching and practice of law.”[3]

My recent thinking on love and legal education is also deepened by three Scottish colleagues who in the Fall of 2019 rode their bicycles between the six Scottish law schools, offering workshops on (amongst other things) the role art can play in critical feminist pedagogy, and in particular feminist judgment.  They argue, in the words of Patricia Williams, “It really is possible to see things – even the most concrete things – simultaneously yet differently.”[4]

Is bringing the body/art/emotion into the study and practice of law one means of bringing love into a legal education?

So, you will imagine my delight when I first picked up my colleague John Borrows’ book, Law’s Indigenous Ethics, and read these words: “Love is an important internal self-explanation for many public-spirited actions.  So, I ask the question again: Why are concepts of love absent in legal language and debate?”[5]

My contribution here today flows from a read of Chapter One[6] in conversation with Chapter Five[7] – what might happen in legal education, at this critical moment on the planet, if we took seriously love as necessary practice and reimagined the walls that silo us inside classrooms?

Chapter One looks carefully at love as a legal principle, one of the seven Grandmother/Grandfather laws, and its place in the language of rights and obligations throughout Canadian Law.  Chapter Five offers some on the ground storytelling of how to take a love as a legal principle out of the classroom and onto the land, figuratively and metaphorically.

I start my reflections by drawing on the techniques of “found poetry”; pulling insights from reading Gift One: Love in conversation with Gift Five: Wisdom.  I conclude by offering some thoughts on how to take up John’s challenges about love, law and pedagogy, for transformative teaching.

 

1.      Found Poetry[8]

 

Her voice was clear; its strength was unmistakeable.  She called to the ends of the earth and sky.
When you don’t know where to turn, open this bundle – the laws within will guide you, even if they don’t settle every question.
How is love relevant?  Why are concepts of love absent in legal language and debate?

Love should be perceptible; it should swell, expand and project itself into our relationships.
While some of this instruction can occur in the classroom, walls can hide important legal resources.
We must beware of the dangers of a single story.

Many laws flowing from our political processes are designed to enhance freedom, autonomy and choice.
Law is not just about force – it also requires our participation and agreement.
We must join our best legal insights to help one another avoid the misery, pain, and destruction all societies face when love fails to guide their actions.

The language of love can be dangerous and we must be exceedingly wary of its appearance.
Languages of love must be decolonized; appeals to love must always be contextual.
Air, fire, water, earth, plants, animals and fish.

We learn differently when we change the physical context; engaging all of our senses.
When students learn in an embodied way these lessons can be more deeply internalized.
Constitutions, statutes, regulations, by-laws, declarations, adjudicative judgments, songs, carvings, textiles, dances, wampum belts, scrolls, and petroglyphs.

Law is a human tool – a resource for reasoning and acting.
In contemporary Canada, political and legal language seems generally devoid of references to love.
We learn differently when we change the physical context; engaging all of our senses.

I found my source of strength.
Outside.
Beware the dangers of a single story.

 

2.     So…

 

It might seem obvious that when you teach courses, like I do, on Family Law and Queering Law, that love is something that needs to be addressed, if not integrally.  Love is love is love, they say.  But the question I am trying to answer is not just about language for talking about the physical dimensions of love, and it is not just for the “pink ghetto.”  The question I am trying to answer is as relevant to Constitutional Law, or Securities Law, for courses taught transsystemically, in the field and on the land, as online, or in clinics.  What is experiential learning?

At this moment, where it seems like we are living in a universe more prone to hate, than to love, this text gently demands that we stop and listen to the seven Grandmother/Grandfather teachings. It asks us to see how love inhabits our public spaces, informs s. 35 of the Constitution and is essential to readings of treaties and other texts.  It is also wary and critical of love’s place in political life.  Like law, love cannot be forced, its powers too are easily abused.[9]

Beware the dangers of a single story.[10]

What I take away from this book about legal ethics and the legal imaginary, is that love is complicated, but deeply woven into the fabric of law.  To not find a way to bring love into legal education is to miss offering students another lens of analysis, another way to read texts, another way to deepen their skills for how to work through and across trauma.  To enhance the ethical imaginations of our future ethical professionals.  Lots of work to do, though to see love as law.

At this moment when it seems that people are more likely to build walls to keep us out, this book deconstructs those walls, metaphorically and actually, to move students out of the classroom and onto the land, or into community, or into their bodies, or inside an idea.  It is thick with stories of how these 7 laws are in action at different law schools across the country, of how deep learning results from bodies engaging with law in unexpected ways and places. In field schools, in downtown Victoria, under bridges in Vancouver.[11]

John’s stories are of the relationship between law, land and learning; I aim to take up those challenges, playing with the notion of what it means to be outside.

By pushing, conceptually, what might happen if we are to weave thick notions of love into a legal education, John revisions what experiential education means.  And, in so doing, offers ways to respond to the TRC, to MMIWG, to #MeToo.  Drawing deeply on examples of placed-based teaching spaces hope is created for alternative notions of where learning happens.  More ways to think about moving students out of their heads and into their bodies to become the ethical professionals we believe they can be.

Found poetry, art bombs, finding Indigenous plants, image theatre, playreading, theatre of the oppressed, baking, dancing with dichotomies, mask and mural making, movies.[12]

I think the answer is: be brave, and things will happen.

When you don’t know where to turn, open this bundle – the laws within will guide you, even if they don’t settle every question.

 

[1]              This presentation was part of a panel dedicated to discussion of John Borrows’ most recent text, Law’s Indigenous Ethics (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2019).  Thank you to Freya Kodar for organizing, to my co-panellists, Pooja Parmar, Christine Sy, Jean-Paul Restoule and John Borrows, and to our audience for their rapt attention and feedback.

[2]              bell hooks, Teaching Community: A Pedagogy of Hope (London: Routledge, 2003) at 134.

[3]              Susan A. Bandes and Jeremy A. Blumenthal, “Emotion and the Law” (2012) 8 Annual Review of Law and Social Science 161-181 at 175.

[4]              See Sharon Cowan, Chloë Kennedy, Vanessa E. Munro, eds., Scottish Feminist Judgments: (Re)Creating Law from the Outside In (Hart Publishing, 2019) at 1, citing Patricia Williams, The Alchemy of Race and Rights ( Cambridge , MA , Harvard University Press , 1991) at 150.

[5]              Borrows, supra note 1 at 27.

[6]              Borrows, ibid., “Nitam-Miigiwewin: Zaagi’idiwin (Gift One: Love), Love: Law and Land in Canada’s Indigenous Constitution” at 24-49.

[7]              Borrows, ibid., “Naano-Miigiwewin: Nibwaakaawin (Gift Give: Wisdom), Wisdom: Outsider Education, Indigenous Law, and Land” at 149-175.

[8]              I have been inspired by the work of Kate Sutherland to bring poetry into the law school classroom.  This has included reading poetry, but also using creative writing techniques to inspire students to write poetry; drawing on resources from their legal training.  Found poetry is one of these techniques, essentially creating a poem by taking words, phrases or passages from other sources and reimagining them.  The poem that follows is comprised of words, phrases and passages from Law’s Indigenous Ethics.  For a discussion by Kate Sutherland of writing poetry in the law school classroom see: Kate Sutherland, “Law, Poetry, and Pedagogy: Reading and Writing Poems in the Law School Classroom” in Christina A. Corcos, ed., The Media Method: Teaching Law with Popular Culture (Durham: Carolina Academic Press, 2019) at 399-414.

[9]              Chapter One is a love story; including interrogation of how love informs Canadian common law and Canadian Constitutional Law and how it sits within the seven Grandfather/Grandmother teachings of the Anishinaabe.

[10]             Borrows, supra note 1 at 28.

[11]             Chapter Five is a curricular model; with stories of how land-based teachings have been employed at several law schools across Canada by Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars including folk at the University of Victoria, the Peter A. Allard School of Law, and Osgoode Hall Law School, amongst many.

[12]             These are some examples of “outsider” pedagogies that I have tried to take up in my courses and seminars at UVicLaw.

Xwelíqwiya – The Life of a Stó:lō Matriarch

XweliqwiyaIn a recent conversation, Gillian Calder commented on how helpful she has found the IFLS blog (thanks Sonia Lawrence at Osgoode!), and particularly those posts titled “What we are doing/reading/thinking”.   These posts point/link to interesting texts (without worrying about doing the full out suggestion of how those texts might be used).  The posts do serve to get the creative juices running.  Gillian suggested that folks might consider doing something similar with #ReconciliationSyllabus.

In that spirit, I thought I would share some thoughts on a wonderful new book on my bookshelf: Xwelíqwiya – The Life of a Stó:lō Matriarch.  While I haven’t fully sorted out full teaching materials using the book, I am convinced that it is a powerful resource for those thinking about TRC work in the law school.

The book is about the life of Rena Point Bolton.  Rena Point Bolton is, amongst other things, the mother of Steven Point, British Columbia’s first Indigneous Lieutenant Governor.  Rena is a force of nature herself.

The word “Xwelíqwiya”  in the title is her name in Halq’eméylem , the language of the Stó:lō people.

As the books explains, Stó:lō is the Halq’eméylem word for “river”, and the Stó:lō are the river people. In this case, the lower Fraser River.  In the summer, making the trip from Victoria to the Shuswap, the drive through Abbotsford, Harrison Hot Springs and Chiliwack is in fact a drive through Stó:lō territory (or, Stó:lō tém:éxw).

4159W9VRBHL._SX372_BO1,204,203,200_
Another great resource!

As is all too often the case, the first challenge for me was the limits of my own limited language fluency.  That is, the title.  I was just not sure how to pronounce Rena Point Bolton’s name in Halq’eméylem!  Richard Daly, the other co-author, gives a good approximation of how to do it, while acknowledging the challenges for English speakers, since nearly half of the sounds in the Halq’eméylem language don’t exist in English.  But the book invites the reader to nonetheless plunge in and try.

As an aside, Halq’eméylem has 8 different sounds for what in English is the letter “K”! (click here for a link to an interesting article on the expressive qualities of the language, and here for a link to the First Voices, website, where you can listen to and learn words in the language).  I found myself heading to my bookshelf to flip through my copy (well… the copy I lifted from my mom’s bookshelf?) of the award-winning Stó:lō-Coast Salish Historical Atlas.   It’s another great related resource to check out (click here for a link to a “good reads” review of the book).

But, back to Xwelíqwiya.  I have been practicing saying her name outloud, trying to put the sound of her language into my mouth.   I am still processing the book, but have found myself bringing it up in conversation on a daily basis since completing it.   There is so much in there that is interesting.  For today, here are a few comments.

Firstly, I have been increasingly looking for biographies and life histories of women.   There are some out there, but not nearly enough.  And there are CERTAINLY not enough books out there that engage with the lives of Indigenous women.  This book does that, situating Rena’s life in the flow of both Stó:lō history, and colonial history.  It does so in a way that engages with questions of land, language, lineage, class, marriage, child-raising, economy, culture, politics, and change.  Law is never far from the surface.

What was so remarkable was the way that the book was able to follow this one woman’s life over a period of 90 years in a way that personalized questions of history and politics.  Her story is told in a way that let me both have a sense of proximity to her “voice”, and simultaneoulsy contained the kind of “distance” necessary for a measured appreciation of the depth of her actions, her contributions, and her own learnings.

Second point?  This book left me reflecting on the power of its  two-voiced authorship.  This book was written collaboratively with social anthropologist Richard Daly.  At the beginning of the book, there is a discussion of the practice of joint-authorship used here.  They situate this decision against the background of Salish practices of legal governance: in the context of potlatchs and other important governance work, families will hire a Speaker — that is, someone who will speak publically on behalf of the family (rather than having the family themselves do the speaking).  They make visible that Richard Daly’s role in the project was theorized in this way — his role was very much like that of a Speaker.  There is much to be talked about in terms of the way the authorship of this book is thus an example of Salish practices of legal governance, enacted in a contemporary context, with a non-Stó:lō writer being asked to play a part in what is very much the operationalization of a Stó:lō way of living.

This book is largely written with future Stó:lō readers in mind (Rena says this explicitly), but it is also written in a way that invites the non-Stó:lō reader to join, to listen, and to begin to feel the different rhythms of Stó:lō  life, and to appreciate the power of culture, and of women’s place (historically and in contemporary society) in maintaining, promoting and developing social and legal life.  There is a section at the beginning that talks about the different conventions of reading for Stó:lō and settler readers, and what each can know about the other in order to have a productive conversation.  That was really helpful!

The book itself contains so much nuance and complexity about questions of identity, and of pragmatics, and of strategy.  It helped me get a better appreciation of the many ways that we are all actors in history, and of the many pathways that women have walked, and how sometimes those paths circle back to beginnings.  It also explicitly took up questions of silence — of how Indigenous people (and Indigenous women in particular) have experienced both silence and silencing, and of the politics of silence at different moments in time.  It asks us to understand the different meanings of silence, and to ask when the time might come to change some of our strategies.  Really powerful.

Lots to be said about this book, which I think is another of those must-have books.  It is certainly a true gift to those who are seeking to take up the challenge of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission for all Canadians to increase their cultural knowledge. Indeed, six of the Calls to Action place this goal at the centre of calls to “professionals”.  We see acknowledgement of the need for cultural competency in the six calls aimed at:

CallsToActionPDF

  • 23 – Health Care Professionals
  • 24 – Medical and Nursing Schools
  • 27 – Law Societies
  • 28 – Law Schools
  • 57 – Public Servants
  • 92 – The Corporate Sector

I came away from the book having had a taste of what it is to live within a Stó:lō life-world, and the beginnings of an appreciation for the rich history that is written on the land that I live on.  I also have an appreciation for the gift of story, and for this book’s invitation to understand the power and possibility of beginning to live in right-relation.  I love this book, and will be returning to it!  Take a look, and see what you think.   Or, maybe write us a post about something you are looking at these days?   Sharing what we are reading is one way to help us think about the project of decolonizing, and of diversifying the reading lists (particularly the required reading) in our courses.

 

 

 

Bannock, a Graphic Novel & Conversation: Re-framing Justice Using the Teachings from “Mikomosis and the Wetiko” — by Veronica Martisius

[Ed Note:  Veronica Martisius is a student at the University of Victoria Faculty of Law, the co-chair of the Indigenous Law Students Association, and was a co-op student with the Indigenous Law Research Unit at UVic during the 2018 Winter Term.  We invited her to contribute a post reflecting on the workshop discussed below.]

In the wake of the acquittals of Gerald Stanley and Raymond Cormier for the murders of two Indigenous young people, Coulten Boushie and Tina Fontaine, The University of Victoria arranged  ‘5 Days of Action’.  During those 5 days, faculties and groups across campus held a number of action-based events.  One of these was a collaborative workshop involving the Office of Indigenous Academic and Community Engagement, the Office of Equity and Human Rights, and the Faculty of Law.  The two-hour workshop was held at the First Peoples House and was open to the public.  Approximately 40 people participated.  I was one of the facilitators of this workshop (along with Professors Gillian Calder and Rebecca Johnson), and offer here some reflections on the event.

The purpose of the workshop was twofold: 1) To actively engage in making UVic a diverse, welcoming and inclusive place to study, work and live and; 2) To create space for Indigenous laws. In their article Gathering the Threads, Napoleon and  Friedland remind us that “State law is not the only source of relevant or effective legal order in Indigenous peoples’ lives…Indigenous laws continue to [exist and] matter today.”

Canada is a multi-juridical society, and, as such, justice systems ought to reflect an understanding of law across social boundaries in order to be just.

The Stanley and Cormier cases illuminate ongoing institutional discrimination and systemic racism on the part of Canada and its laws.  In particular, Canada’s criminal justice system, which was imported from Britain and imposed on Indigenous peoples, does not reflect Indigenous values or notions of what justice requires nor does it incorporate Indigenous legal orders.  But what if it did?  What might that look like? To answer those questions we had the workshop participants take a close look at the story of Mikomosis and the Wetiko.

Mikomosis
Photo by: Veronica Martisius

The graphic novel, Mikomosis and the Wetiko, is based on a story told by Val Napoleon, drawing on graduate work done by Hadley Friedland (now published as The Wetiko Legal Principles) and by the Indigenous Law Research Unit (ILRU) while it was working on the Accessing Justice and Reconciliation Project.

The story explores the tale of a Cree man sentenced to death by a 19th-century Alberta court after carrying out an execution ordered by his Cree community  under a Cree legal concept known as Wetiko.

A team of Indigenous lawyers travel back in time to intervene and apply aspects of Cree law and legal processes not originally presented. With a more in-depth understanding of the circumstances, the court finds the accused not guilty.

*** In the graphic novel, Mikomosis executes Sap-was-te when it is determined by the decisions makers that there is no other way to keep the group safe from her increasing violence.  Just as execution would not be an option in Canadian law today, it is important to point out that this would never be a current option in Cree law today either. ***

You might be thinking to yourself, “why is this story relevant in responding to the Stanley and Cormier verdicts?”

It is relevant because, as Robert Clifford (2014) argues, “colonial power structures are best mitigated and subverted by applying Indigenous narratives, including Indigenous systems of law.”  In other words, Canada is a multi-juridical society, and, as such, justice systems ought to reflect an understanding of law across social boundaries in order to be just.  Mikomosis and the Wetiko is one example of how Indigenous societies used and applied their own legal principles to deal with harms and conflicts between and within groups and how they might be usefully applied today.  For information about a current example of Indigenous law and procedure in action on Coast Salish territory, click here.

During the workshop we started off by asking the participants two questions:

1) What do you think of, or picture, when you hear the word, ‘law’?; and

2) What do you think of, or picture, when you hear the concept ‘Indigenous laws’?

As you can see from the two images above, when thinking about the ‘law’, participants used various words that reveal what may be attributed to its adversarial nature.  When thinking about ‘Indigenous laws’, participants used words that reflect a more holistic approach.

After the large group discussion, we divided up the participants into groups of three. Over a delicious lunch of soup and bannock, we asked each participant to read the graphic novel.  In addition to being provided with a copy of the graphic novel, participants received a handout including a glossary of terms and Cree words, and a set of ‘re-framing’ questions that move from generalizations to specifics.  For example, with respect to the latter, moving from “what is aboriginal justice?” to “what are the legal concepts and categories within this legal tradition?”

After lunch, each group engaged in a facilitated conversation.  To help guide the conversation, we used the Mikomosis and the Wetiko: A Teaching Guide for Youth, Community and Post-Secondary Educators, and asked the following questions at page 40:

  1. What does the graphic novel make you think about?;
  2. What part made the most sense to you, or felt the most uncomfortable?; and
  3. If you were a character in the graphic novel, who would you be? Who would you most want to sit down and talk with? What would you ask that character?

Each conversation generated a diverse range of comments and questions around the relationship between Indigenous laws and Canadian law, pan-Indigeneity, responsibility vs. guilt, safety and protection of the victim(s) and the community, different legal processes, burden of proof, gendered power dynamics, ‘Whiteness’, decolonization, and dispelling stereotypes about Indigenous peoples.

Discussion Visual
Discussion Visual

Participants expressed a desire for change with respect to addressing and eliminating the injustices that Indigenous peoples continue to face.  They talked about how to affect change in their daily lives through introspection, getting to know the local Indigenous community, learning about the land they live, work and/or play on, their responsibility as guests/visitors, building relationships, engaging with their various social networks (family, friends, classmates and co-workers) about the issues, and lobbying the government.  At the end of the workshop, each participant wrote themselves a letter as a future reminder of their individual commitment to take up the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s Calls to Action.

In a March 14, 2018 article that explores the idea of a cross-cultural criminal justice system, law professor, Marilyn Poitras said, “[g]oing home to suburbia or the farm or the reserve and shutting the door is not going to work. How are we going to open doors, open hearts, open conversations? For the sake of future generations people need to talk with each other.”

If you are an educator, lawyer, law student or a concerned citizen who is not sure how to spark up meaningful discussion about ways to re-frame justice in Canada, consider bannock, a graphic novel & conversation to get the ball rolling.

Resources Referenced: 

Indigenous Ways of Being and Knowing (A Try): An Exercise in Family Law and Sex-O at UVicLaw

(The featured image entitled “Sen” is the work of Uumati Kisoun-Inuarak, more of her work can be found at http://www.uumati.com)

 

This post contains an exercise that I designed for my Family Law class at UVicLaw (Law 322) in the Fall of 2016 and then revised for my Sexual Orientation and the Law seminar (Sex-O) in the Fall of 2017.  My goal with both classes was to respond to Call to Action 28 by raising as central to our study — both of families and of sexual identity — issues of colonialism.  And, my goal was to do it at the outset of the course so those issues would serve as a lens through which we approached all questions throughout the term.

My hope here is to share what I did in those classes (the try that it was) so that anyone could pick it up, adapt it slightly, and use in their own course.  So, I will outline in a “how to” kind of way, what I did in both classes.  And then at the end I will reflect a bit on how it worked.

I.  Family Law.

Family Law at UVic is an upper level elective course with a cap of 50 students, taught twice a week for 90 minutes.  It is taught with two volumes of materials, the first addressing family formation and the second addressing family breakdown.  Given the complicated ways that law impacts our understanding of “the family” the first part of the course is evaluated by essay with the subject chosen by the students.  This enables me some pedagogical freedom.  The second part of the course addresses the more conventional issues of divorce, custody, division of property and support, and is evaluated by take-home examination.

There is not a single issue that we address in family law that will not in some way or shape impact someone in the class.  This is something we address explicitly at the outset of class; we know what “the family” is in family law because we have lived them.  The need to recognize that in class participation is critical, and wherever there is a more embodied class, like this one, I ensure, as best I can, that students know the content we will be covering.

The role that colonialism plays in family law in BC has always been central to the course, particularly on questions of family formation, but in Fall of 2016, I decided additionally to address the TRC’s calls to action with a standalone class.

In a semester of 25 classes, this was the third class coming after a introductory class, and a class that set out histories, definitions and legal change, and before dealing with constitutional frameworks Reading Outline Law 322 2016.

The question posed to the class in advance of class was “how does the legacy of residential schools inform our understanding of the family and family law in 21st century Canada” and the reading for the class was the Introduction to Honouring the Truth Reconciling for the Future, Summary of the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (pages 1-21) Executive Summary TRC1 and then excerpts from The Survivors Speak, A Report of the Truth and Reconciliation of Canada (pages 1-22, 31-46, 99-108, 201-203) The Survivors Speak TRC2.

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The students were also asked to come to class with an example of when they had seen the story of residential schools in popular media for sharing with their classmates; and with a reminder of the nature and difficulty of the subject matter we will address.

At the outset of class the students had an outline to show the four components of the class: introduction to TRC28, sharing their popular culture moments, Briefing a Story, and then discussion of the TRC and its connecting significance to the course as whole (TRC class outline).

Introduction. As the class was settling I had set up my child’s turntable, and was playing  a vinyl version of Gord Downey’s The Secret Path.  I begin by very briefly addressing TRC28 and then move to discuss the history of residential schools as the explicit policy of the Canadian government to eliminate Indigenous governments and legal traditions in Canada through assimilation.  And specifically, how at the heart of this cultural genocide was the need to disrupt the family, the unit recognized y then governments as the primary vehicle through which Indigenous laws and values were shared and learned.

Popular culture.  I then divided the class up into groups of four or five, giving them a few minutes to share with each other how residential school issues have been made visible to them in popular or other media.  After some time I then charted them up on to the board and later provided the list as a handout with some space for discussion about where, when and how these issues should be taught Shared residential school resources 20-09-16.

Briefing a story. In their same groups I then introduced a case briefing exercise drawing on the methodology developed by Drs Val Napoleon and Hadley Friedland and employed at the heart of the work of UVic’s Indigenous Law Research Unit (ILRU).  This part of the work may seem daunting, but here is where I really encourage colleagues to give this work a try.  If you can do a workshop with ILRU that would be ideal.  But if not there is detailed information about the history, ethic and structure of the methodology in ILRU publications like their Gender Inside Indigenous Law Toolkit or in scholarly writing like Hadley and Val’s article, Gathering the Threads.

Since its origins, the people of ILRU, Val, Hadley, a cohort of students, researchers and others, began to look for Indigenous law sources and resources in the myriad places they have been recorded.  And drawing on the work of Dr John Borrows and others, ILRU began to retells stories and cases, using an adaptation of the common law “case-method” to identify legal principles within single stories, to address the resurgence and revitalization of Indigenous laws.

So, in each group I gave them a publicly-accessible story that has formed part of ILRU’s work.  One of the students in each group read the story aloud, and then the students set out to use the framework, shared by ILRU, to prepare a “brief” of the story.  To move through stereotypes and assumptions, to see Indigenous laws in the present tense, and to see legal concepts and categories, legal principles, legal processes for decision-making and problem-solving.

Screen Shot 2018-01-06 at 6.30.58 PM

(Art by Dr. Val Napoleon)

Case brief:     Name of story with full citations

Issue/Problem: What is the main human problem we are looking at within this story?  What is it that the story is trying to tell us?  It may be more effective to frame this as a question that one can then answer through the analysis.

Facts:  What facts in the story matter to this particular issue?

Decision/Resolution:  What is decided that resolves the problem?  If there is no clear human decision, what action resolves the problem?

Reason (Ground/Ratio): What is the reason behind the decision or resolution?  Is there an explanation in the story?  If not, what can be inferred as the unstated reason?  What is the “why” behind the decision or response?

Bracket:  What do you need to bracket for yourself in this story?  Some things may be beyond your current frame of reference but are not necessary for the case analysis.  Conversations will inevitably flow from what is bracketed

The stories I gave my class that year were all stories about children being removed from or returned to communities.  The ones I used are here: Buffalo ChildThe Girl Raised by a Grizzly BearThe Caterpillar; and The Boy who was Raised by Wolves.

Time was of course an issue, and was best spent by giving them lots of time to struggle with pulling the principles out of the stories, making sense of them, and seeing the connection to our work in the course.  I used my time moving from group to group, posing questions and working to keep them on track.

Truth and Reconciliation. I concluded class by offering some space for reflections from their briefings, and then by returning to the broader work of the TRC, and our work in family law.

II.  Sex-O

Sexual Orientation and the Law (Law 357, lovingly called Sex-O by the students) is an upper year seminar, theoretically taught every other year.  The class is twice a week for 90 minutes, and the methodology is one that draws heavily on embodied pedagogy.  The first class of the week is a discussion class, readings based, and the second class puts those readings into action.

In my 2017 seminar, I chose to import the lesson plan that I had used in family law with slight modification.  This class on Indigenous stories was the third of three classes at the outset of the course aimed at locating ourselves in place, space and law and to recognize the connections between Indigenous laws and colonial constructions of gender.  The first week of the course including an adaptation of Pulling the Weeds – by Suzanne Lenon, Kara Granzow & Emily Kirbyson shared on this blog, and the second week included a discussion of colonialism, Indigeneity and queer legal theory, to set up the TRC exercise.

So, similar to family law, this exercise sat right at the outset of the course so that students would be thinking about and drawing on these materials through their work Reading outline Sex-O 2017.

The reading for the week including the following: SexO readings 12-09-17 and so the students were asked to come to class with familiarity of the ILRU methodology.

Introduction. I did a similar introduction as I had in family law, but with the focus on the role that colonialism plays in our understanding of sexuality, or as authors Drs Sarah Hunt and Cindy Holmes articulate “further our reflections on decolonizing a queer praxis.”  This was supplemented by the students having already spent a whole class engaging with the theoretical materials.

We then watched one of ILRU’s videos — Indigenous Law Gender and Sexuality to set up our conversation about how gendered power dynamics shape legal interpretations, and in particular how Indigenous ways of knowing and being are engaged in our collective effort in queering law.

Briefing a case. I then, similarly, broke them into groups of 3 or 4 (smaller groups due to the smaller seminar size), set up the ILRU exercise, and then gave them each a story that I chose from the Gender Inside Indigenous Law Casebook.  The stories I chose were: Hu’pken (Secwepemc); Sn’naz (Secwepemc); Hairy-Heart People (Cree); Swan and Some (Dane-zaa) and Dog Peed on Arrow (Dane-zaa).

They then similarly worked with the ILRU case brief (as shown above) with the additional questions drawn from the work of Dr Emily Snyder:

Questions about legal processes: What are the characteristics of legitimate decision-making processes? Who is included? Is this gendered? Who are the authoritative decision makers?

Legal responses and resolutions: What are the responses? Do these responses have different implications for women and men?

Legal rights: What should people and other beings be able to expect from others? Are any of these expectations gendered? Are certain rights overlooked?

General gender dynamics: Are both women and men present in the material? What are they doing or saying? In what contexts do women and men appear?

Conclusions. Again, time was not our friend, but after considerable engagement, we came back to the large group to see what they had pulled out of the stories, and how the primarily gendered issues translated into questions of sexuality.  We then stepped back to the work of the TRC as a whole, and concluded by thinking through, collectively, how knowing and continuing to engage with the TRC, particularly the history and legacy of residential schools, matters to our study of sexual orientation and the law.

III.  Self-reflection

I think to really know how these classes worked, you have to ask the students.  I hope that some of them will take up the comment features from this blog and let you all know. From my perspective as an educator, they worked really well.  First, issues of Indigenous ways of knowing and being grounded both of those courses from the outset.  And that really seemed to matter; visible in classroom discussion and in their essays and projects.  Second, engaging with Indigenous stories is something that our students do in various places at UVicLaw.  And there the work often does double-duty, demonstrating the significance to Canadian law of the resurgence and revitalization of Indigenous legal orders, on the one hand, and showing how all law is stories, on the other.  Third, the embodied nature of the exercise — the reading aloud, the sketching out a case brief on flip chart paper, the vulnerability of it — seems to affect a power shift in the class.  Right from the outset these students are talking to each other about things that really matter, and doing that with respect, creativity and openness.  Modelling dynamic learning can free students to try different evaluative methods themselves.

Finally, as a non-Indigenous instructor, doing this work can be terrifying at times.  The intergenerational trauma that some of our students live with, and the gravity of bringing issues of cultural genocide into law school teaching, is huge.  But my parting words would be that it so important to try.  To self-educate, definitely, but to not shy away from exercises, like this one, that with a little bit of set-up can wreak huge benefits.

I have tried to include all of my materials here, but super happy to talk more about this with anyone who wants to give this a go, too.

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Thinking about “The Law of Evidence” through the Structure of Indigenous Language

IMG_20171129_160130
My new favourite book

With classes nearly over this term, I happily turned to my “Books to Read!” pile.   At the top of the pile was a new book by Marianne Ignace and Ron Ignace, Secwépemc People, Land and Laws (McGill-Queen’s Press, 2017).

So many of the summers of my life have been spent on the shores of the Shuswap Lake. The smell of the forests, the feel of the winds, sound of the water, the taste of thimbleberries… all that has been imprinted deep in my heart.  I had been looking forward to spending some time with this book, to continue to learn about the history of the land, the people, and the laws of this place that I so love.  I am only into the 4th chapter, but I am not disappointed.  I can already see that this is going to be a book I will be carrying around with me.

In line, then, with my new goal for myself (to do at least one blogpost a week on what I am learning), let me share one of the amazing things I learned today from the this book.  I learned that the Secwepemc Language is an amazing resource for learning about law!  I finished reading Chapter 4 (“Secwepemctsin: The Shuswap Language”) this afternoon, and then spent the next hour walking up and down the halls of the law school, hunting down colleague after colleague to make them listen to what I had learned (Val, Pooja, Jess, Simon, Tim, and Bob have got to hear my enthusiasm first hand!).

The big discovery for me (on p. 138 of the book) was something called “Evidentials”.  This is a form of suffix that does not exist in English grammar.   In Secwepemctsin, as I understand it from the chapter, a suffix can attach to a verb, in a way that lets the speaker tell the listener about the evidentiary support for the statement.  That is, it indicates how the speaker comes to know the truth of the statement:

  1.  from first hand knowledge,
  2. from hearsay (what others have said), or
  3. because there is physical evidence of the action.

In short, as the Ignaces point out here, when people are telling each other about things that happen in the world, they are also sharing information about the evidence that exists for the statements made.

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Page 138

Of course, we can share information about evidentiary support in the English language: it is just a matter of adding more detail.  And when it comes to legal action, those evidential details matter a lot: if you appear as a witness in  a common-law court, you will be asked how it is you come to know what you know; the presence of physical evidence to support the claim is alway relevant; there are all sorts of rules to govern hearsay evidence.  That is, there is much to explore around evidentiary rules related to the relevance, credibility, reliability and sources of statements.

But there is something so interesting in how such questions are organized in Secwepemctsin in part through grammar.  Questions of evidence seem to be woven into the structure of speech and thought (rather than being separate questions emerging primarily in the context of formal legal settings.)  An orientation towards evidence is embedded in grammar itself.

What is so beautiful to me (or do I just mean mean ‘surprising’?)  is that the structure of Secwepemctsin itself, as a language, orients itself towards transparency in the  practices of validating knowledge.  Grammatically, people tell each other not only what they know, but HOW they know it.  This means speakers are grammatically required to make (suffix based) choices about the actions they describe, and listeners have the capacity to make choices about further inquiries needed on the basis of what they hear. Given suffixes, they can determine whether to seek further information from others, or to validate information by looking to physical traces to support what they have heard.  Certainly, this requires speakers and listeners to engage their own faculties of reasoning in conversation, by reminding them that all statements have an evidentiary status of some sort.  This is such a sophisticated and nuanced structure of thought.   I have been reading a number of Secwepemc stories in English, and I have a new appreciation for the ways that that the stories, in their original language, would be carrying additional information and nuance.

This encouraged me to go back to the TRC calls to action, and the section on Language.   Call #14 says “We call upon the federal government to enact an Aboriginal Languages Act that incorporates the following principles:

(i) Aboriginal languages are a fundamental and valued element of Canadian culture and society, and there is an urgency to preserve them.

There are interesting challenges in thinking about how each of us is invited to make the TRC Calls to Action “our own”.  Call 14 aims at the federal government, and it asks for legislation:  it is easy to see this call as within purview of others.  And yet, there is something important in acknowledging that we are each in some way called to think about our relationship to the PRINCIPLES that are identified here.  In learning more about Secwepemctsin (the language of the Secwepemc peoples), and about the place of evidentials in that language, I came to appreciate the importance of the principle expressed in TRC Call to Action #14: ‘that Aboriginal languages are a fundamental and valued element of Canadian culture and society’.   There are very good reasons for all Canadians to begin to learn with and about the Indignenous languages of this country.

One starting point might be this book.  Certainly, its discussion of Evidential Suffixes, is a wonderful way to draw insights from Indigenous Language and Indigenous Law into the Evidence Law classroom!  Can’t wait to learn more from what Marianne Ignace and Ron Ignace have brought together in this book!

Core Strengthening – A MOOC to get you going!

Part of TRC Calls to Action  #27 and #28 includes training in “intercultural competency”.   I find myself reflecting on the very real challenge for many of us working in law:  how do we as professors strengthen the grounds of our own intercultural competency?   Part of what we are engaged in is a new practice of balancing.  What resources are available to both students and faculty alike?

There are some very interesting resources out there and available in the world.  Just as one example, here at UVic, our colleagues Robina Thomas and Rob Hancock at the office of Indigenous Academic and Community Engagement have developed a Cultural Acumen Training, program, and have been providing the first module (an 80 minute ‘foundations’ session) to Faculty, to staff, and in classrooms.   It is a delight (and a politically meaningful one) to see institutional support for the kind of learning/unlearning that has to be done as we move forward on this work.  One of the ways I think all of us can contribute to the work is to support and make use of the resources available in our particular institutions (conscious of course of the thoughtful cautions of Jula Hughes re the colonization of cultural competency work).IMG_20171122_112632

I also want to do a big shout out to University of Alberta, and their Indigenous Canada MOOC (Massive Open Online Course) [taught by Professors Tracy Bear and Paul Gareau].  It is a wonderful response to the TRC, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.

If I were to suggest a gift for the holidays, it would be to give yourself the gift of signing up for this course.  OK.  The thing is, this gift is FREE!  But you can also pay for it.  I think it was something like $65 if you want to take it for the Certificate.  I took the PAYMENT option, partly as a way of trying to keep myself accountable (and so i would have a small amount of pressure, so i would TAKE the time needed each week to actually DO the work).

The Course is super well designed, and has 12 lessons/weeks.   The site tells you to anticipate a time commitment of 3-5 hours a work per week.  I will say it took me less time… maybe because i am just so smart already?!  🙂  That said, i have subsequently returned to and re-watched several components (sometimes with my kids), so there you go on the time front.

Here some truly delicious things about the course:

  1. It is in manageable time chunks!  The course is online (I guess that is why one of the “O”s in “MOOC” is for “online?”)  It has been designed so you can work around a fragmented schedule (if your life works as does mine).  It is broken down into small video components (each between 10 and 20 minutes long at the most).  The videos have little quizzes built into them (so you can answer questions right at the spot that you are getting access to new information).  I totally enjoyed watching a segment or two in the evening, sometimes while eating dinner. IMG_20171122_152153
  2. There is art!  In the design of the course, they worked with artist Leah Dorion, to have her produce original art work for the course.  For each week in the course, there is “Interactive Painting” segment where the artist walks you through one of the paintings, discussing the elements in the painting, and how they relate to the subject.   Various elements from the paintings are then incorporated (as visual markers) into the weekly lessons in ways that really help to anchor and extend the content.
  3. There is significant breadth in coverage.  Topics for the 12 lessons include the fur trade and other exchange relationships, land claims and environmental impacts, Indigenous women, legal systems and rights, political conflicts and alliances, Indigenous political activism,urban Indigenous governance practices, contemporary Indigenous life, art and its expressions and more.  There is also a great 49 page “Native Studies Glossary” with links to internet resources.
  4. The production values make it a pleasure to watch.   We academics are smart, but not always fun to watch when filmed.  They did a really good job on the design, and so I found the mix of talking heads, images, animations, and text to really hold my attention.   It is designed in a way to touch various learning styles.  In short, the videos not only held my attention, but gave me lots to think about in terms of pedagogies!  I am also in love with the intro music for the course (and often found myself humming along).

In short, there are great resources out there to support us as we do the work of extending our own intercultural acumen, of familiarizing ourselves with the history that is our own.  This is a resource that I would feel comfortable recommending to students and colleagues alike.  Certainly worth thinking about as a concrete action each of us can take in the direction of taking up our own personal obligations under the TRC to educate ourselves for the work ahead.

 

 

 

Songs of Law? — Thinking about Indigenous and Settler Laws on the Use of Music

 

Sometimes I wonder if life in a law school doesn’t involve a “Midas Effect” — that is, everywhere you turn, everything you touch seems to involve (or become?) law.  I have been noticing this myself with respect to the law school’s ongoing obligations under TRC Call to Action #28.  I have been increasingly noticing how often questions of Indigenous Law seem to be in my field of vision.   Or perhaps I am only now beginning to see/acknowledge what was there all along?

Here is a specific.   I was on a phone call with my sister this morning, and the conversation (which was focused as it often is on activities with kids) moved from stories about the family dog, to piles of laundry and Orange Shirt Day and finally turning to the Louis Riel Opera with the Nisga’a song in it.  What, said I?  A Louis Riel Opera with a Nisga’a song in it?!  I had missed that discussion (a list of links to media discussions about the opera follow below)

Louis-riel-festival-opera-de-quebec-3
http://www.quebecspot.com/2017/07/une-remontee-unique-dans-le-temps-avec-lopera-louis-riel/

As is our way, my inner interrogator emerged, and so the conversation turned to questions about music, appropriation, and intellectual property law.  It was not the conversation I expected, but it has really had me thinking all day.  And it had me thinking about how a piece like the Louis Riel Opera could open space for a discussion of Indigenous Law in a very particularized way:  that is,  in the context of a Nisga’a song being drawn into a Settler/Canadian piece of music.  We have here an encounter involving two legal orders, each of which has rules about the creation and performance of music.

I asked my sister if she would write up a few paragraphs that I could share on this blog, paragraphs that would capture the essence of our conversation, with its questions about what the Opera might have to teach us about law and legality.  She, still sometimes pressed to fill the role of ‘relatively compliant younger sibling’, agreed!

“THINKING WITH AND ABOUT MUSIC” – Mary Johnson

I am a settler who grew up on Treaty 7 territories.  I graduated from the University of Calgary with a Bachelor of Art in Canadian Studies.  I love Canada.  I love being exposed to Canadian art, music, and literature.   I now live in Ottawa/Gatineau on unceded traditional territory of the Algonquin Nation.  Because I live in the Nation’s Capital Region, I am constantly surrounded by opportunities to participate in cultural activities celebrating Canada and its diverse talents.  These opportunities were intensified in 2017 with the Canada 150 celebrations.  I often felt conflicted during these celebrations as I don’t think Canada’s nation-building efforts are to be celebrated as such.  We need to not only acknowledge the harm Canada’s nation-building efforts have brought to Canada’s Indigenous peoples, but we also need to recognize these harms are not only historical, they are on-going.  Every Canadian needs to be engaged in doing the work of reconciliation.

2017-04-27---LouisRiel-MC-0035
https://www.schmopera.com/webhook-uploads/1493319094895/2017-04-27—LouisRiel-MC-0035.j

With this in mind, I tried to be thoughtful and deliberate about my participation.  When I realized I would have the chance to take my family to see the Louis Riel opera, I wanted to attend. I love opera, and there is a not a lot of Canadian opera.  But I was also very aware that this opera would be infused with appropriation.  Before the performance, I had read about some of the innovative ways this 50th anniversary production of the Opera attempted to acknowledge this appropriation, including a Land Assembly, a mostly silent group on the ground, dressed in red to represent Metis and First Nations peoples.  For me, watching the Land Assembly bear witness through the opera was very powerful.

What I had not read about in advance was not expecting, and what perhaps touched me the most, was a pre-show in the lobby by a group of Nisga’a Nation singers.  The group then moved onto the Opera stage to open the show.  A musical highlight of the opera is the third act’s opening aria, Song of Skateen. The Kuyas lullaby is sung by Riel’s wife, Marguerite. As noted in the program, the song is actually a Nisga’a lament from the West Coast, incorrectly used by Somers and Moore (the composers of the opera) in this context. Nisga’a protocol dictates such songs must only be sung at the appropriate times and only by those who hold the hereditary right to sing them. To shed light on this, a prelude to the opera featured a group of Nisga’a Nation singers, who acknowledged the fact the song was taken from them, and performed a victory song of their own.

I think this example of the Louis Riel opera taking and misusing a Nisga’a song provides an opportunity to initiate discussions around compensation for the use of cultural/intellectual property.  Western intellectual property laws often focus on monetary compensation for the use of cultural property, or address use through licensing.  But what are other possibilities where monetary compensation does not come close to addressing the issue?  What other ways could we approach this situation?  How do different indigenous legal systems work through such conflicts?

MEDIA SOURCES/LINKS TO SUPPLEMENT A DISCUSSION?

  1.  Here is a short piece from the Queen’s Gazette,  interviewing Prof. Dylan Robinson (Canada Research Chair in Indigenous Arts).  Queen’s Gazette, “A dialogue on Indigenous law, song and opera” Monday, April 24, 2017 http://www.queensu.ca/gazette/stories/dialogue-indigenous-law-song-and-opera
  2. Michael Cooper, “Canada Turns 150, but a Silent Chorus Isn’t Celebrating” (April 19, 2017) New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2017/04/19/arts/music/canada-turns-150-but-a-silent-chorus-isnt-celebrating.html

 

#StandForTruth, or,What is the place of Indigenous Laws in Truth and Reconciliation? (a bit of a rant)

Supreme Court of Canada
The Supreme Court of Canada in Ottawa is shown on Tuesday, April 14, 2015. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Sean Kilpatrick

In the middle of the last gasps of marking law school final exams, I find myself mentally (and, frankly, emotionally) caught up in discussions about the upcoming Fontaine case at the Supreme Court of Canada.  So… I thought I might as well get my stresses and anxieties articulated.

As I best understand it, the Fontaine case concerns what to do with the 38,000 (highly personal and confidential) records (plus another million supporting documents) that were collected or created during the Independent Assessment Processs set up as part of the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Act (IRSSA). (The Settlement gave us both the IAP and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission).

At the time survivors gave their testimony in the IAP, it was not made clear to survivors what would happen to the records.  Now there is significant contestation: should the records be kept by Archives Canada?  By the NCTR (National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation)? Should they be destroyed?  Should individual former students have a say in the matter?

The resolution was to give individual former students a 15 year window to come forward if they wanted their documents archived with the NCTR.  At the end of that period, all remaining documents are to be destroyed.  The SCC will hear the case on May 25, 2017.

The Coalition to Preserve Truth has been granted Intervenor status in the case (artist Carey Newman, and lawyer Nicole Bresser have been driving forces behind the coalition).  The Coalition is described thus:

We are the Coalition for the Preservation of Truth whose members are representatives of both residential school survivors and intergenerational residential school survivors.  The coalition is formed to advocate for the preservation of the Indian Residential School Settlement Agreement – Individual Assessment Program’s documents. 
 
The Coalition recognizes the ongoing impacts of intergenerational trauma and as such, we acknowledge that future generations have a right to know the content of these documents.  The Coalition wishes to preserve these documents while honouring individuals’ rights to privacy.

I personally support the Coalition for Truth.

What has been tricky for me is trying to describe what this support means.  So, I thought it would be useful to try to articulate (at least for myself) what it means for a non-Indigenous Canadian law professor to #StandForTruth in case like this.  This is particularly so when I know that Indigenous colleagues and friends are significantly torn over the case, and may be lining up on both sides (for retention and for destruction. (You can see the Affidavit of Carey Newman here Affidavit #1 of Carey Newman, or view the Coalition’s funding campaign on the gofundme here).

In this case, at the heart of things, my support of the intervention of the Coalition to Preserve Truth is linked to their attempt to change the story that is being told about this case.  Canadian law sees this as a story of privacy and confidentiality.  It that the story that best describes the situation here?   A story about the need to honour individual choice?  A story about the protection of individual interests in privacy and confidentiality?

Those are, of course, important values, ones that have often been denied to Indigenous people in Canada (and certainly denied in the context of residential schools).  And yet….The Coalition to Preserve Truth raises important questions about people in relation, and relationships to both the past and the future, particularly in the context of times of trauma and injury.   Should the records related to residential school survivors be kept or destroyed?  What are the relationships of the individual to the collective?  To the past?  To the future?  The Coalition’s intervention, with its focus on intergenerational connections, invites us to understand that the case should not be decided in the absence of Indigenous Laws.

To put it bluntly, Canada has a long history of making decisions about Indigenous, Metis and Inuit peoples rather than with Indigenous, Metis and Inuit peoples.  Will this case be similar?

That is, what matters here is not only the ‘outcome’ [destroy or keep the records], but also the ‘process’.  It matters that there is space for Indigenous Laws to be enacted here.  Or maybe flipped, it is very problematic that there has NOT been space for Indigenous Laws (and by that, I am including substance, process, protocol, ceremony and more) to be applied here.

I think that is why the intergenerational point the Coalition is making is so important.  It is a question of Law.  During the Independent Assessment Process, former residential school survivors shared stories of the ways that they had suffered harm that was both individual and collective.   We already know that those stories we gathered and collected in ‘non-optimal’ ways.  That is, they were not gathered in ways that would have better followed the laws (both substantive and procedural) governing the people whose stories were shared (be that Salish, Cree, Migmaw, Inuit, Metis, etc).  They also were not gathered in ways that followed Canadian law (ie. by having explicit consent forms providing choice to witnesses).

And so we are now in a position where the Canadian legal system is positioned to decide how to best deal with yet another harm experienced by both the people who shared their stories, and by the families and legal orders to which those people belong. And it will decide it in the legal lingua franca of ‘jurisdiction, privacy, and access to information’.

As the case is set out, the solution is one which is flawed in so many ways.  I get why people feel sick at the notion that, in the context of this history of genocide, the records that were created (the testimony that was witnessed) would be destroyed.  I also get why other people feel sick at the notion that their words and memories will be permanently kept by the very government that made possible the very harms they suffered.  The choice — Keep or Destroy — is a false and cruel one.  (i.e., would you prefer I cut off your right arm or your left arm?)  Framed in this way, the choice is one that (like the residential schools themselves) splits generations from each other, as people are required to consider which two untenable options will do less harm in the future.

And I acknowledge the (settler) desire I feel to keep quiet, rather than risk choosing ‘the wrong side’ in this struggle, or interfere in something that is not ‘my business’.  But the history of residential schools IS my business.  It is all our our business.  And I can’t help but think that it is not OK for settlers to stand on the side in silence, as if we can best support and respect indigenous peoples by letting them fight it out (in the corner Canadian law and history has forced them into).

There is no easy solution here.  But it is problematic to proceed as if Indigenous Laws are irrelevant, as if Indigenous Legal Orders do not have resources, as if Indigenous Communities are not deeply invested in how the memories of their peoples are held and kept and treated.   It is also problematic to proceed as if survivor voices don’t matter (in either direction… destroying the voices of those no longer able to give consent, or denying the express wishes of some for destruction of their testimony, or denying that the entire process as created conditions of unsafety and new trauma for people)

It matters not just WHAT the Court does here.  It matters also HOW the Court does it.

Indigenous peoples, in different communities, have resources for such moments, resources that are rich, and textured, and full of space to hold differences of opinion.

How do ‘we’ (people in the legal community) take up our TRC reconciliation obligations under Calls to Action #27, #28, and #50 to teach Indigenous Laws?  How might we think about our obligations to Indigenous Peoples, and that includes obligations to take into account their own laws and own ways of resolving conflicts like these?

How does Canada enact its own obligations to deal respectfully, its own obligations to acknowledge the harm it has done, its own obligations to learn more about how it too needs to act in ways that respect its connections to the past and the future.  Can the Supreme Court, at this moment, see the obligations that govern it? Obligations that may involve principles not only of Canadian law, but also of Indigenous Laws?

What I find powerful about the The Coalition for the Preservation of Truth, with its reminders about intergenerational connections, is its invitation for us to take law seriously.  It invites us to understand that we (indigenous and settler people) are both a part of this story.  It invites us to take seriously how we think about shared memory, and a shared past.  It invites us to ask what it might mean to ACTUALLY honour the testimony of those who spoke their truth at the IAP hearings.  Preserving Truth invites us to change the story we are telling about this case.

It invites us to imagine that it may be possible to simply stop for a moment.  What ever happens in the Court room, is it possible for the rest of us to make space for the questions to be reframed? It is possible to acknowledge that Indigenous law must be part of the decision-making?  What might the case look like were the courtroom to be populated with Indigenous peoples bringing principles of Indigenous law to bear in order to find solutions that truly honour the spirit of reconciliation?  What might the case look like if our law schools were populated with Indigenous colleagues doing the work of Indigenous (and non-indigenous) law? (see Zoe Todd’s latest blog)

Of course, it is hard to talk about this without getting personal (or being personal?)  Easy to blame the system.  I am left wondering really about what it might mean for me (in my own classroom, in my own home, in my own interactions with others, in this blogpost?!) to begin to to talk about the ways that I too, living in unceded Coast Salish territories, might have legal obligations to learn the laws of this place, and to make good on my own legal obligations to the past and the future (and indeed to the present).  What might it mean, anyways, for me to “Stand For Truth”, or “Stand In Truth” or “Stand With Truth”?

OK.  Rant over for now.   My hands up to my many Indigenous, Metis, and Inuit friends who bear the heavy weight of this case, which is re-traumatizing to people on so many levels.

Back to marking….