Art, Law, and Community: Truth and Reconciliation through Art

By: Julie Tucker & Gemma Smyth

28. We call upon law schools in Canada to require all law students to take a course in Aboriginal people and the law, which includes the history and legacy of residential schools, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Treaties and Aboriginal rights, Indigenous law, and Aboriginal–Crown relations. This will require skills-based training in intercultural competency, conflict resolution, human rights, and anti-racism.[1]

83. We call upon the Canada Council for the Arts to establish, as a funding priority, a strategy for Indigenous and non-Indigenous artists to undertake collaborative projects and produce works that contribute to the reconciliation process.[2]

Photo credit Nadja Pelkey

How can community collaboration address the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s 94 Calls to Action? How can we more meaningfully embody and integrate the 94 Calls to Action in a teaching/learning practice for art and law students alike? How can community be meaningfully incorporated through an embodied, community-engaged practice?

Through a partnership between the School of Creative Arts (SoCA), the Faculty of Law and the Arts Council Windsor Region (ACWR), artist/maker Barry Ace (Anishinaabe [Odawa])[3] was invited to participate in the inaugural Art + Law Residency. Ace developed an original work entitled, “As Long as the Sun Shines, The Grass Grows and the River Flows” that incorporated multidisciplinary understandings of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s Calls to Action. The Residency and exhibition commenced during the World Indigenous Law Conference at the University of Windsor. Organized by Professor Beverly Jacobs, the conference was a collaboration between settlers and Indigenous artists and lawyers, as well as university and community-based organizations.

Photo credit Gemma Smyth

Over the course of two weeks, Ace worked with dozens of participants to create a 54-panel work that allowed participants to write, “bead,” and thus take artistic responsibility for one of the TRC Calls to Action. Ace likened his work to a “contemporary wampum”, with each participant actively engaging in self-examination, discussion, and artistic practice around individual Calls to Action. Each small group session comprised a group of between 5 and 20 students, lawyers, community members and artists.

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Photo credit Nadja Pelkey

Ace contextualized the project by first orienting participants to his selected works touching on aspects of residential schools.

“Debwewin” (Anishnaabemowen for “truth telling”) includes tiny shoes woven and enmeshed in rope symbolizing lost Indigenous children and culture.

“Memory Landscape” evokes images of Ace’s adopted brother, and a photo montage maps the geography of a residential school attended by his great aunt.

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Photo credit Czarina Mendoza

Ace’s storytelling connects the painful memories of his family members to his art, revisiting photos and geographies that embody the residential school experience. There are inherent risks in undertaking a project that can trigger trauma in both the audience and maker. It was a significant risk in this particular project because of the small group work, discussion, and emotional engagement required. Ace explicitly addressed this risk with participants. His experience working in the community, his thoughtful and meticulous making, and his careful, individualized engagement with each participant navigated potential harm while leaving space for lingering, difficult questions.

Before beginning their work together, participants were required to relinquish their rights to the piece for $1.00 (a “loonie”) by signing a contract.

Excerpts of the contract read, “In consideration of the sum of One Dollar (1.00) and other good and valuable consideration the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, I, _________, whose address is ______ release and discharge Barry Ace, his or her executors, administrators, successors and assigns from all actions, suits, debts… in respect of my participation in the creation of a work of art entitled ‘As Long as the Sun Shines, The Grass Grows and the River Flows’…”

The act of giving up one’s rights recalled the way contract law is used in modern and historical contexts to deprive people of their rights – often without knowing exactly what they are giving up. In this case, participants were required to sign this contract without fully knowing its outcome. In receiving a shiny new dollar, the exchange is reminiscent of the nominal amount of money that is issued on Treaty Days across Canada.

Because this exchange was a condition of participating in the project, it was particularly poignant for students required to be at the session as part of their class assignment. This work therefore referenced the complex relationship between Canada and Indigenous peoples which permitted a narrow range of options – acquiescence, assimilation or death.

Photo credit Gemma Smyth

After this exchange, participants then chose a Call to Action and wrote it in HB pencil on vellum paper. Vellum is translucent and allowed each participant’s unique handwriting to appear, even as it was rolled up and tied. Using the materials that Ace often favours, the participants then mixed floral and geometric beadwork with electronic pieces including capacitors and resistors, to bead floral designs onto 56 velvet surfaces. Ace describes his choice of materials as referencing the “cultural continuity, bridging the past with the present and the future, and as a demonstrable act of nationhood, resistance and modernity.”[4] Ace had pre-prepared the surfaces with the general pattern he wanted and affixed tobacco ties above the floral pattern.

Both Ace’s artwork and the residency respond to Call 83 and 28. Ace’s contemporary wampum belt engages traditional cultural beading practices but also modern electronic components, reflective of the materials of present day communication – the small bits, bytes and wires that make our devices work. Wampum is legal document beyond words and time. It is meant to last and to be remembered. Because of Ace’s understanding of material culture and experience working in community, he was able to teach and to share through his own process of making. Through his teaching and practice, participants were able to embody the Calls as artistic expression, personal commitment and lived experiences. “As Long as the Sun Shines, The Grass Grows and the River Flows” will be exhibited at galleries in Canada. Posted next to the work are the names of the participants, which for many was a meaningful, public connection and acknowledgment of their participation. Ace’s experience directed the collaboration successfully and his input will shape how the project moves forward.

In the following reflections, two of the organisers of this project – an Indigenous artist/ cultural worker and settler lawyer/professor – reflect on the partnership and its potential for future collaborations between lawyers and artists to bring deep interpretative, embodied and enacted meanings to the Calls to Action.

 Julie

My heritage is both settler and Lunaapeewi from the Munsee-Delaware First Nation. I am both an artist and cultural worker. Currently, I am the Director of the Arts Council Windsor and Region and a founding member of the Munsee-Delaware History and Language group, developing its first project through the recently defunded Indigenous Culture Fund courtesy of the Ford Government. This year is marked by the UN as the Year of Indigenous Languages.[5] Language embodies the culture, law and ways of being. This and other acts by both the Federal and Provincial governments are clear departures from the work of reconciliation. The CBC’s website “Beyond 94” tracks the progress of the 94 calls to action: 10 are completed, with 19 in progress, 33 proposed and 33 not started[6]. I have come to learn that we all hold the responsibility to ensure this work continues. In 2016, I was in attendance of a Night for Chanie on the 50th anniversary of his death, which honoured Chanie Wenjack and all former students of residential schools, organized by imagineNATIVE Film and Media Arts Festival. Significantly, Senator Murray Sinclair spoke during the event and issued a directive to the whole audience to answer one of the Calls to Action by whatever means available to them. I felt and continue to feel a deep responsibility to develop relevant and meaningful programming to all people from across Turtle Island who call this region home. My interests are in projects that are collaborative, interdisciplinary and opportunities for artists to be engaged in meaningful work.

The responsibility I feel is bred from the colonial structures of which I have learned, worked and have benefited from. David Garneau states:

The government apology and the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission are important, but the deeper work of conciliation will be among individuals who re-cognize themselves as also other than agents of the State. Settlers visiting these permanent sites of conciliation do so as individuals who are conscious that their institutions perpetrated systematic abuses designed to assimilate or destroy Aboriginal people so they could take their land[7].

Gemma asked me, “What is the significance of collaborating with the Law School and its faculty?” There are many things I would like to say here, but I think this collaboration is just one of many ways to tell the important stories that need to be told along with a way to support that telling. I don’t think institutions like universities are always aware how artists need to be supported in their work. As a cultural worker my role is to advocate for opportunities that benefit artists. I hope to offer an experience that is valuable to their practice.

Lastly, when I experienced Barry’s work, it allowed me to reflect on my Grandmother’s stories of Mount Elgin Residential school. I think there are many stories that need to be heard. And I know that one day you will know them because an Anishanaabe/Haudenosaunee /Lunaapeewi artist will have the opportunity and the means to tell you in the right way.

Gemma

As a second- and fourth-generation settler of German and Irish ancestry living on Anishnaabe territory, this collaboration brought renewed meaning and urgency to the Calls to Action, and clarified anew the complicated complicity of the law, legal education and myself in ongoing colonialism. By profession, I am an academic, lawyer and mediator. I am fortunate to learn from colleagues whose academic and lived experience challenge me to remain alert and conscious about the ongoing impacts of colonialism and my complicity in its ongoing metamorphosis. This project was inspired by the work of my colleague Professor Jeff Hewitt, whose academic work challenges lawyers to reconceive of art as law. I found this collaboration incredibly impactful and would encourage other law schools to reach out to their communities and art schools.[8]

For lawyers, intellectualization of pain is our stock-in-trade. This perhaps is the danger of simply reading the TRC Calls to Action without embodying or enacting them, or without engaging with the affective elements of cultural genocide. Ace’s work accessed these pedagogies. He personalized the TRC through his own stories; he crafted installations and images that made pain real in way that the common law avoids. Yet understanding this pain is key to effective legal representation. The participants engaged with one another in a collaborative, community-based learning environment which allowed for interdisciplinary discussions and uniquely co-created meanings.[9] In the session I participated in, for example, art students, practicing artists and an Indigenous community member created a mini-conversation group. Our discussion became intimate quickly as we discussed the TRC and our own experiences with Ace’s work. The beading practice allowed a shared experience of making/ creating. My own inefficiency and inelegance with beading was in sharp contrast with practicing artists whose beautiful beading was a healthy dose of professional humility. As we discussed the role of law and lawyers in the residential school settlement, we quickly came to the limits of law to address pain. For me, the practice de-emphasized over-intellectualization and encouraged embodied presence. During the final show launching Ace’s work, participants felt deeply invested in the work and had formed relationships both with one another and with the artist. Our fingerprints were literally imprinted onto the velvet and our handwriting was visible through the vellum. For me, Ace created community-through-truth-telling – offering painful imagery and narrative without emptiness, offering tangible connections between the past and present.

Acknowledgement

This project was possible because of the work (paid and unpaid) of a large group of people. Students in the School of Creative Arts (SoCA) were guardians and hosts in the gallery space. Rod Strickland and Lucy Howe were experts in organizing the project, supporting the creation and hanging of the work, hosting the Artist and solving the inevitable challenges that come with making. Vincent Georgie and Chris Waters were strong institutional supporters and embodied fruitful interdisciplinary co-existence. Jeffery Hewitt was the creative brain behind this initial idea, with co-generative effort with Julie and Gemma. SoCA technicians Nadja Pelkey, who took photos and prepared the space and Victor Romano who runs the SoCA Gallery, while Czarina Mendoza lent her photography skills to the project. Michelle Nahdee and Beverly Jacobs supported the project alongside the World Indigenous Law Conference. The work took place on the land of the Three Fires Confederacy, Anishinaabe territory.

[1] Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada: Calls to Action (Winnipeg: National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation) at 28.

[2] Ibid at 83.

[3] Barry Ace, Barry Ace (website), online: <http://www.barryacearts.com/current-exhibitions/&gt;.

[4] Barry Ace, “Artist Statement”, Barry Ace (website), online: <http://www.barryacearts.com/artist-statement/&gt;.

[5] 2019 Indigenous Year of Indigenous Languages (website), online: <https://en.iyil2019.org/&gt;.

[6] “Beyond 94: Truth and Reconciliation in Canada”, (19 March 2018), CBC News, online: <https://newsinteractives.cbc.ca/longform-single/beyond-94?&cta=1&gt;.

[7] David Garneau, “Imaginary Spaces of Conciliation and Reconciliation” (2012) 46:2 West Coast Line 74 28 at 38.

[8] Indeed, at least one other law school has done meaningful work in this area. See Ruth Buchanan & Jeffery Hewitt, “Treaty Canoe”, (2019), Osgoode Digital Commons: Articles & Book Chapters, online: <https://digitalcommons.osgoode.yorku.ca/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3610&context=scholarly_works>; Ruth Buchanan & Jeffery Hewitt, “Encountering Settler Colonialism Through Legal Objects: A Painted Drum And Handwritten Treaty From Manitoulin Island”, (2017), Osgoode Digital Commons: Articles & Book Chapters, online:  <https://digitalcommons.osgoode.yorku.ca/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=https://scholar.google.ca/&httpsredir=1&article=3668&context=scholarly_works>.

[9] See Sarah Buhler, Priscilla Settee & Nancy Van Styvendale, “’We Went In as Strangers, and Left as Friends’: Building Community in the Wahkohtowin Classroom” (2015) 1:2 Engaged Scholar J 96; Sarah Buhler, Priscilla Settee & Nancy Van Styvendale, “Teaching and Learning About Justice Through Wahkohtowin” (2014) 4 Annual Rev Interdisciplinary Justice & Research 182.

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Wild Mushrooms or Wild Land: Do you have permission to pick wild food on “Crown” land?

How a mundane practice like mushroom picking can disregard or disrespect First Nations rights and title. And how education can help.

Earlier this summer, I stumbled onto a patch of resistance to reconciliation. My fellow settler neighbours did not agree that the “Crown” land behind their homes was the traditional, unceded territory of the Secwepemc Nation. My neighbours assumed that all non-reserve land had to belong to the government and therefore, what was on it, was theirs for the taking. This was despite a solid public school education on the history of how Canada was settled.

One of my takeaways from this interaction is that the education of First Nation issues needs to include discussions about how individual actions can respect First Nations rights and title. My neighbours knew the history of how Canada was settled and yet they assumed that all Crown land was Canada’s. This was despite recent new stories that the Supreme Court of Canada upheld a Specific Claims Tribunal decision that found that the Crown broke a treaty with the Secwepemc Nation and wrongfully took land from them (Williams Lake Indian Band v. Canada (Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development), 2018 SCC 4; see https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/supreme-court-williams-lake-1.4516522). My neighbours and I live in a town that is literally on stolen land, and that big forests around us may be Crown land on paper but in actual fact it is the unceded traditional territory of the Secwepemc.

Not all places in Canada have the convenience of knowing whose land you live on and a Supreme Court case confirming that the land was wrongfully stolen. This information is accessible to everyone in my town and it made a splash in the news when the decision first came out. This information, coupled with the education that I assumed all my neighbours received about the historical injustice of colonialism, resulted in what I assumed was a common understanding that the land around them was belonging to the Secwepemc First Nation.

It was against this backdrop that we rolled into the early summer months, the first summer after the wildfires of 2017. For several months ahead of this summer, my husband Chief Russ Myers of the Yunesit’in band in Tsilhqot’in First Nation, had been working with his nation around setting up a permitting system for picking wild mushrooms in the Tsilhqot’in traditional territory (http://www.tsilhqotin.ca/Portals/0/PDFs/Press%20Releases/2018_05_18_MurshroomPermitPR.pdf).

The Tsilhqot’in knew that there would be many mushroom pickers coming into the area and that the Province of British Columbia would not regulate them. It was up to them to create a system to ensure that the mushrooms were picked in ecologically sustainable areas.

This system had already been announced when my neighbours made their own announcement on Facebook; these women had recently returned from the traditional territory of Secwepemc Nation and had picked basketfuls of wild mushrooms. They were happy to get some healthy, organic, (free) non-GMO food.

Their glee at picking wild foods was shocking to me. I sent them messages, asking if they secured permissions from the Secwepemc Nation. My fellow settler neighbours were either silently cold or hotly angered at these questions. One woman responded to my suggestion by posting her outrage on Facebook. My other neighbours chimed in. The 93 comment thread lay clear that many people believe that it was their right to pick wild mushrooms on “Crown” land.

When I saw this, I was reminded of a few paragraphs that the Chief Justice McLachlin wrote in the Supreme Court decision, Tsilhqot’in Nation v. British Columbia, [2014] 2 SCR 257. I had been reading this decision earlier in the year, and paragraphs 114-115 always struck me as infuriating. In these paragraphs, Chief Justice McLachlin, speaking for the Court, assumes that all non-reserve and non-treaty land must belong to the Crown because to assume otherwise would leave “no one in charge of the forests that cover hundreds of thousands of hectares and represent a resource of enormous value.” This assumption overlooks the number of treaties that were made and broken by the Crown, such as in the Williams Lake case. It also overlooks the evidence that we have that many First Nations in Canada were “managing” the forests and lands without Crown approval or knowledge. These Nations did this because they had been doing it for hundreds of years prior to colonial settlement.

It’s a funny thing to see the Chief Justice and a disgruntled white lady on Facebook arrive at the same blind spot. Two people, with radically different knowledges of the law, First Nations and history, both arrive at the same, unsupportive, assumption: if I don’t know this is Native land, then it must be Crown land.

Most of the land that we have today emerged from the historic wrongs that we all learn about in school. In schools, students look at these wrongs and perhaps will look at the current legal and political systems designed to address these wrongs. I think that this leaves students with an idea of what governments or industry need to do, but it doesn’t give the students a sense of what they need to do as individuals to respect the First Nations whose land they live on. How to live ethically if the land that you live on is stolen?

To ask permissions from the First Nation to harvest wild food is a practice that is small but potentially impactful. How one asks for permission to harvest wild foods is a delicate act; it requires taking the time to learn whose land it belongs to, to reach out and contact that First Nation, to listen and really try to hear the response, which might be in a language which is not yours. This process may not be easy, and there probably is not a universal approach. But by even trying to do this, settlers are showing government and industry and all our neighbours whose land and laws we are choosing to follow. An education that connects historic wrongs with how individual actions can help reconcile the past is one way that we can get other settlers to begin this kind of practice.

After I had sent my neighbour the questions, the Secwepemc Nation came out with a map of the areas where mushroom picking was allowed. Other Secwepemc bands have also put up signage instructing mushroom pickers and buyers that they were in the unceded territory of the Secwepemc people. In a move that shows how deeply people recent “Crown” land from belonging to Fist Nations, one of these signs outside of Lac Du Boise Grasslands Park near Kamloops was vandalized with a violent and crude message (https://www.kamloopsmatters.com/local-news/education-is-the-only-answer-to-ignorance-band-chief-responds-to-racist-comments-found-on-vandalized-sign-near-kamloops-973042).

How settlers pick wild mushrooms and other wild food can be a case study on how individuals can take small steps to recognize and reinforce (or deny and erase) First Nations right and title. Teaching the “Big History” or “Big Law” of First Nations rights and title is important, but may not be enough. In these lessons, there is an opportunity to also interrogate what mundane, everyday practices that settlers may be doing that disregards First Nations rights and title. It is in these small acts, as simple as picking a blueberry, or talking to your neighbour, that can help us all carry the responsibilities of reconciliation.

 

Top photo: Wild mushroom, known as a morel, growing on Fox Mountain, on Secwepemc territory, in Williams Lake, Spring 2018. Photo credit: Frances McCoubrey.
Many thanks to Rebecca Johnson and Gillian Calder for their helpful and patient edits and suggestions. 

The Blanket Exercise – Part 1

Introduction

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A basket of blankets ready to go

In the Fall of 2017, the UVic Law Faculty decided to involve the full first year law school class in a form of the KAIROS Blanket Exercise as part of our mandatory Legal Process Course. We had been reflecting on the possibility of doing something like a Blanket Exercise for a number of years.  The Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s Calls to Action(particularly #28, directed to Canada’s Law Schools) inspired us to start incorporating new ways of learning into our program.

In the interests of generating a conversation about embodied pedagogy and TRC work, I want to share here five different experiences that I have had with the blanket exercise (including the approach our law school took last year). Each encounter helped me recognize both the necessity and the challenges of doing trauma-informed, embodied pedagogy in the law school.

Just by way of provisional definition, by ‘embodied pedagogy’, I mean teaching in a way that acknowledges bodies, makes them visible, and moves them to the center of the learning experience. It is a way of teaching in which bodies are recognized as key to relationships, to understanding our histories of being, experiencing, and living in the world.

As you read about my description of each of the experiences I invite you to think about three different questions:

  1. What is the goal of the exercise? To share information? To gather information? To created a common foundation for further conversations?
  2. What advantages can embodied pedagogy bring to TRC work in the law school?
  3. Is it possible to create a safe space in which the experience can unfold, one that is trauma-informed?

By the end of this piece I hope to have articulated some of the reasons why the UVic Law School decided to involve all our students in the blanket exercises as a starting point for a common understanding of our history of Indigenous-Colonizer/Settler relationships. I hope also to have shared some insights that emerged from reflecting on multiple engagements with the exercise.

Encounter #1 – Nervous Reluctance at the Very Idea

My first encounter could perhaps be described as an encounter with an idea. That is, my first encounter was not through participation, but through description of the exercise: my colleague Maxine Matilpi had participated in a version of the KAIROS exercise, and suggested that we do it with our students at UVic. As I understood it from her description, a floor would be covered with blankets representing North America before contact. Over the course of an hour or so, people would be taken through Canadian history in a way that performed small-pox, genocide, residential school, the foster care system, dispossession and more. At the end of the exercise there would be a visual map capturing the ways in which colonial practices have resulted in fragmented communities. The exercise would be followed by a debriefing session in which participants could discuss their experience of the exercise. Maxine reported that participants had found the exercise to be a powerful way of understanding this swath of history in a more embodied fashion.

While the exercise sounded interesting, it also made me very nervous. It seemed like the exercise would raise a lot of hard questions in a context where I was not confident we in the law school (I?) would have the capacity to address them. I was worried that law students might be resistant, that it might generate backlash, and that it might produce more harm than good. But I kept my ears open. And other friends, including Hadley Friedland, stepped forward to make the suggestion again. But at each mention of the exercise, while I found myself saying that it sounded ‘conceptually interesting’, my primary affective response was one of nervous reluctance (and refusal).

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Doing the blanket exercise in Edmonton

It was several years later that Hadley Friedland did what both Maxine and she had suggested that UVic should do. That is, she used a form of blanket exercise at University of Alberta with a group of over 200 law students and faculty.  She adapted the Kairos script to be more attentive to the law school context.  She involved people from local Indigenous communities and from the Indigenous Bar Association to facilitate discussion groups after the exercises.  She didn’t let ‘logistics’ stop her: since there wasn’t a room large enough in their law school to physically pull this off, the exercise was run in the gymnasium at U of A.  The event successfully met its objectives. Click below for accounts of the U of A experience in 2016 and 2017:

With my nervousness about the exercise tempered by evidence of its success at the University of Alberta law school, I moved in the direction of a small scale experiement – trying it myself.

Encounter #2 –  The McGill Welcoming Week Version

The first time I myself participated in the Blanket Exercise was in Montreal during a Welcome Week at McGill. I was in town visiting my sister, and it just so happened that a group of McGill students (NOT associated with the law school), were running the exercise, in a week where there were multiple competing events.  I was, in some ways, “a stranger in a strange land”, and there was some comfort in the idea of trying the exercise out in a context where I did not know anyone, and nobody really knew me.  It was clear that time was of the essence and things were being brought together at the last minute. This is shorthand for saying, it was a very bare-bones exercise. The presentation didn’t feel glossy or polished. The people who were playing the roles of the facilitators and the settlers were volunteers. They were real people doing an exercise. There were no expectations that people had memorized or rehearsed lines, or that they were working to a professional standard. And so we were called in as participants in just the same way: there was no expectation that we had to do anything other than follow instructions.

Certainly, there was something quite powerful in having the exercise flow out in what felt like a very ordinary way.   I felt a certain democratizing impulse in it in the way that the script was there and it didn’t require someone with an exceptional speaking voice to have power.

I was also struck by the relationship between what I knew in my head, and what that knowledge felt like when it took an embodied form. During the exercise, I was given a scroll which was to be read aloud at the relevant time.   The text referenced the death of Indigenous women. There was nothing in the text that was new to me – by that I mean that the data was something that I was accustomed to teaching in my criminal law class.   Yet, having to read the words out loud in this context was very hard. It was all I could do to try to read the words without crying.   I was reminded that reading the words in my head is not the same as saying the words in ways which required my lungs to take breath, my vocal chords to do the work of speaking the sentence in time. It takes much longer to say the words out loud, than it does for my eyes to take in the meaning. Having to say it out loud is not the same as knowing it. Or as hearing it. I was reminded that the speaking of words makes them real, ‘in the body.’

I was also reminded that I have a great deal of personal discomfort with role-playing exercises. I am perfectly happy watching others do them, but I don’t have a strong desire to be a participant. Indeed, knowing that I might have to participate in something will often send me quite a few rows back in a classroom. I am much more comfortable in my head than in my body. I prefer talking about things to doing things. I am always aware of discomfort in my body when I am asked to perform in many of these contexts. I experienced some of this in doing the exercise, but in ways that involve productive discomfort.

As one example, the exercise opened with the instruction that we walk around on the blankets saying hello, greeting each other.   That activity, itself, often takes me out of my comfort zone. I don’t enjoy parts of classes where we are supposed to walk around and introduce ourselves. For one thing, I am often uncomfortable shaking people’s hands: with how hard to shake, how soft to shake, are their hands arthritic, do I need to be careful how hard I squeeze, are my hand clammy or sweaty, will they want to shake my hand, will it be gross for them to shake my hand, is my hand too rough, how long should I smile, should I get eye-contact. These kinds of questions are running through my head in those exercises, thinking about my own comfort and also about the community of others of my loved ones who really hate these kinds of exercises.

There is something staged and false about that intro that I can feel in my body in a particular way, so I don’t really enjoy it. As someone who does not come from and has not embodied the Catholic tradition, I have also felt that way at the end of the Catholic mass where people turn to each other and say, peace be with you. Every time I am in one of those moments, I find myself thinking of my mother-in-law, who told me that she found that the most powerful part of the whole mass. For her, those moments of connection were powerful.

And so while I find them uncomfortable, I appreciate that they may be operating differently for others. The point is just that the exercise pushed me immediately into a space in which my body’s own discomfort was mobilized. In taking that first step and literally stepping onto the blankets, I was trying not to let my nervous giggle surface, walking around, shaking hands with people I did not know, wondering if I was operating appropriately or not. For me, this discomfort was productive – my participation was largely an information-gathering exercise to inform whether I could bring back and use this exercise in the places where I worked and lived. So that was good for me to know and helped temper the discomfort.

I found myself wondering if the exercise would have been different with trained actors reading the main roles.   I also wondered if that would lead me to feel more engaged, or to experience greater distance. It certainly let me think about the real pragmatic questions about how much of the work is in the script of the exercise itself and how much is in the power-of-performance dimensions of the script. There was a debrief following the exercise. I did find that the conversation after the exercise was as at least as interesting as the exercise itself.

I came away from this first exercise with some valuable insights and with a curiosity and desire to participate a second time.

Click to continue to Blanket Exercise – Part 2

“The Confederation Debates”: Promoting Reconciliation in grade 7-12 Curriculum

“The Confederation Debates”:

Promoting Reconciliation in grade 7-12 Curriculum

 

Daniel Heidt, dheidt@uwaterloo.ca

Robert Hamilton, robert.hamilton1@ucalgary.ca

 

The pursuit of reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Peoples is becoming more and more widespread, permeating unexpected aspects of Canadian life. Many teachers across the country are eagerly taking up this challenge, but sometimes struggle to find accurate and appropriate lesson plans to work with.

The Confederation Debates took up this challenge in one small area by developing mini-units for grade 7-12 teachers that bring Treaty histories into Confederation discussions. For historians and legal scholars, the term “Confederation” is usually constrained to visions of the 1864 conferences at Charlottetown and Quebec City with the likes of John A. Macdonald, George-Étienne Cartier and Leonard Tilley. A charitable few academics extend this to include the Red River Resistance (around present-day Winnipeg), British Columbia and Prince Edward Island, which all entered Confederation by 1873. Even these depictions leave out many of Canada’s provinces as well as Indigenous Peoples not present for the Red River Resistance.

The Confederation Debates challenges these preconceptions. In addition to expanding the temporal scope of “Confederation” to include Canada’s most recently added provinces and territories, its leadership wanted the project to affirm that Indigenous Peoples were — and continue to be — “partners in Confederation” (as the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples insisted). Thus, on the project’s website, treaty texts and records of treaty negotiation are positioned alongside the verbatim records of legislative debates about each province’s decision to join or reject Confederation.

While the project lacked the resources to reproduce the texts of all historic and modern Treaties, along with the records of their negotiation our team, a multi-disciplinary team comprised of Robert Hamilton, Daniel Heidt, Jennifer Thivierge, Bobby Cole and Elisa Sance, developed educational mini units that allow grade 7/8 and high school students across the country to develop a multifaceted understanding of their province’s entry intoBC-ConfederationDebates-Cover Confederation. To guide this team’s work, the project’s leadership sought the guidance of John Borrows, who provided helpful and regular oversight. Each mini-unit, catered to address each province’s curriculum requirements, is split into “parliamentary” and “Indigenous” sections. The former provides the research sources and original records necessary for an engaging mock parliamentary debate on a province’s entry into Confederation. The latter section contains two lesson plans about Indigenous peoples and their roles in shaping the country.

In developing these lesson plans, we sought to challenge historical narratives which minimize or erase the role of Indigenous peoples, providing an understanding of Confederation which recognizes Indigenous agency. This required rethinking notions of Confederation that construed Indigenous peoples as cultural minorities within a broader political community.  These activities were developed to emphasize simplicity, Indigenous agency, and fiduciary obligations. To that end, the mini-units begins with a brief summary for teachers about conceptualizing confederation:

There are two very distinct stories we can tell about Confederation and Canada’s Indigenous Peoples. In one story, Indigenous Peoples are largely invisible. Here, their only presence is found in s.91(24) of the British North America Act, 1867, where “Indians, and lands reserved for the Indians” were deemed to be federal, as opposed to provincial, jurisdiction. This has subsequently been interpreted as providing the federal government with a power over Indigenous Peoples and their lands. The Indian Act of 1876, which is largely still with us today, was passed on this basis. This created what political philosopher James Tully has called an “administrative dictatorship” which governs many aspects of Indigenous life in Canada. Many of the most profoundly upsetting consequences of colonialism are traceable in large part to the imposition of colonial authority through s.91(24) and the Indian Act of 1876. 

But there is another story as well. Canada did not become a country in single moment. Though the British North America Act, 1867, created much of the framework for the government of Canada, Canada’s full independence was not gained until nearly a century later. Similarly, the century preceding 1867 saw significant political developments that would shape the future country. Canada’s Constitution is both written and unwritten. Its written elements include over 60 Acts and amendments, several of which were written prior to 1867. The Royal Proclamation, 1763, for example, is a foundational constitutional document, the importance of which is reflected by its inclusion in s.25 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The Royal Proclamation, 1763 established a basis for the relationship between the British Crown and Indigenous Peoples in North America. By establishing a procedure for the purchase and sale of Indigenous lands, the proclamation recognized the land rights of Indigenous Peoples and their political autonomy.

Both the pre-Confederation and post-Confederation treaties form an important part of this history and what legal scholar Brian Slattery calls Canada’s “constitutional foundation.” It is through Treaties such as these that the government opened lands for resource development and westward expansion. It is also through the treaty relationship that Indigenous Peoples became partners in Confederation and helped construct Canada’s constitutional foundations. 

Our challenge was to present narratives of Confederation that provide students with a glimpse into the complexity and pluralism in Canada’s founding in ways that were historically accurate and accessible for students in the grade ranges we targeted.

Towards this end, we developed two exercises focusing on Indigenous issues as part of the lesson plans. The first is a “leaving a trace” exercise that helps students to understand how cultural misunderstanding can come about, as well as how historical events are shaped by both the chronicler and the interpreter of historical narratives. The exercise requires students to silently draw their own recent activities or conversations and then ask their peers to interpret those ‘records’ without any contextual information. This exercise encourages students to think critically about the materials used in their second activity.

The second activity is a mock “museum curation” exercise where students learn about a Treaty in their province by breaking into groups to study one of up to six ‘artifacts.’ One group researches the treaty, other groups study Indigenous and Crown negotiators, and at least one group studies a cultural object that was important to the negotiations. For example, in the British Columbia exercise, groups receive one of the following:

  • Text of a Vancouver Island Treaty
  • Biography of Sir James Douglas
  • Biography of David Latass
  • Biography of Joseph Trutch
  • Written description of the WSÁNEĆ reef net fishery
  • Records of treaty negotiation and comments on treaty implementation

Each item or historical figure was carefully chosen for the historical information and perspectives they exemplified. Teachers also have a list of questions to guide discussion. The first group is provided with a text of one of the Vancouver Island Treaties. We felt that it was crucial for students to actually engage the text of treaty.

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Using these ‘artifact’ records, each group is expected to produce an exhibit to share their findings (ex. a diorama, poster etc…) and the teacher then guides the class through the exhibit with questions designed by our team to spur discussion. In the case of the Vancouver Island Treaty, for example, the questions include:

  • What rights and responsibilities are recognized in the treaty?
  • The treaty uses complex and technical legal language. Did you find it easy to understand?
  • Would it have been difficult for people who did not grow up speaking English to understand the language used?
  • Which of the parties to the treaty might have benefitted most from having it written this way?
  • How might current understandings of the treaty be shaped by the fact that the only copy is written in English and articulated in dense legal language?
  • What might be missing from the treaty as it is presented here?

These questions were designed to help teachers to guide the students through a critical Mistahimaskwa-ConfederationDebatesreading of the text while developing their critical faculties. Some of the questions could elicit quite sophisticated answers. But we also believed that it could open students’ (and perhaps even teachers’) minds to new ways of understanding treaty relationships.In addition to these questions, The Confederation Debates encourages teachers to invite local Indigenous leaders to also join this tour, hoping that it will allow these local leaders to comment on the displays and raise important questions about representations of historical relationships and the nature of the Crown obligations undertaken in the treaties.

Taken together, our team hopes that these activities will be one of the many tools that teachers will use to help their students explore history, historical narratives, Indigenous agency, and the meaning of Confederation. By helping students to learn that Confederation encompasses all of Canada’s provinces, territories and Indigenous Peoples, we hope to foster dialogues that will improve Indigenous and non-Indigenous relationships.

This work, however, is not yet finished. To complete its bold vision of educational materials, the project is still in need of volunteers. Despite undertaking considerable preliminary planning, the project ultimately lacked the resources to complete mini-units for the territories as well as Newfoundland and Labrador. If anyone is interested in co-developing the Treaty sections of these mini-units, please contact one of us and we’ll be happy to share the work completed to-date.

 

 

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: 

“What is missing?”: Marie Clements’s New Opera about Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women

Violence against Indigenous women and girls is pervasive in Canada. The National Inquiry  Interim Report, (Our Women and Girls are Sacred) cites an estimate that Indigenous women are “12 times more likely to be murdered or missing than any other women in Canada, and 16 times more likely than Caucasian women” (at pp. 7-8). And the Native Women’s Association of Canada points out that numbers alone communicate little about the lives of Indigenous women and girls, or the calamitous losses experienced by their families and communities.  As NWAC point out in their discussion of the Faceless Dolls Project,  “each statistic tells a story.”

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The cast of Missing (photo credit: Dean Kalyan)

In a new chamber opera that debuted in 2017 in British Columbia, librettist Marie Clements and composer Brian Current portray ongoing colonial violence against Indigenous women and girls and emphasize the need for difficult learning.

Missing, performed in English and the Gitxsan language, immerses audience members in a discomfiting comparison of the divergent life chances of two young women with similar aspirations. Ava, a white law student, passes by a hitchhiker on the notorious Highway 16, the “Highway of Tears” where so many women have gone missing. After a car accident, she glimpses the body of a high school student, a character Clements names only “Native Girl,” who stands in for the multitude of lost girls and women.

Ava returns to her studies after recovering and encounters Dr. Wilson, a guest lecturer, whose discussion of missing and murdered Indigenous women challenges students to move beyond fleeting sympathy to grapple with their own complicity. “What is missing,” Dr. Wilson asks the students, in a society that “can’t recognize another human being as another human being?” One of Ava’s classmates disavows shared responsibility for the structures and histories that make Indigenous women vulnerable to violence; she angrily insists that they are to blame for their own “bad choices.”

forever-loved-FINAL-cover-small.jpgThe student’s defensive reaction in the opera, and her reliance on problematic stereotypes, will be familiar to many instructors. Maxine Matilpi explains that “when we dispel lies and deal with the omissions from their prior education, non-Indigenous students tell me that they would rather we didn’t spend so much class time on colonization or racism; they find it uncomfortable and frustrating, even irritating” (See her article “Personal Political Pedagogy with Respect to #MMIW” in D. Memee Lovell-Harvard and Jennifer Brant, eds, Forever Loved: Exposing the Hidden Crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada (2016), p. 264).

But in the opera, Ava, is not defensive.  She has been transformed by her near-fatal accident, and is receptive to Dr. Wilson, who instructs her in the Gitxsan language and then mentors her when she becomes a new mother. The care and cultural teachings that Ava receives are further reminders of what the other young woman was deprived of by her assailant, while scenes of her mother’s limitless grief portray how badly she is missed. As Ava encounters Native Girl in uncanny ways, she learns to reach out to her, offering care and witnessing.

Marie Clements, an acclaimed Métis playwright (she is also the writer and director of the new film The Road Forward), when interviewed about Missing, said that her desire was to create a work in this Opera that would engage the empathy of Indigenous and non-Indigenous audience members by portraying “a Canadian story . . . one that we’re all responsible to.”

The disappearances and tragic deaths continue, and at the first hearings of the National Inquiry, families have described losses that extend across generations. Marilyn Dumont, a Métis poet and professor, commemorates Helen Betty Osborne, a high school student who had to move away from home to attend high school. “Betty,” Dumont writes, “if I set out to write this poem about you / it might turn out instead / to be about me / or any one of /my female relatives.”

Clements’ opera is a great resource for those looking for ways to engage with the difficult realities of our shared colonial histories in ways that make this story one that we are all responsible to.

SOME RESOURCES:

Chantelle Bellerichard, “New opera about MMIWG tells a story ‘that we’re all responsible to,’ says co-creator” (Oct 29, 2017) http://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/mmiwg-opera-to-premiere-in-vancouver-next-week-1.4375797

Sarah Petrescu, “Power of Opera Gives Story of Missing Indigenous Women Emotional Depth” (Nov 21, 2017) http://www.timescolonist.com/entertainment/power-of-opera-gives-story-of-missing-indigenous-women-emotional-depth-1.23099825

Interim Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, “Our Women and Girls are Sacred” (2017) http://www.mmiwg-ffada.ca/files/ni-mmiwg-interim-report-en.pdf

Highway of Tears Symposium Recommendation Report (2006) http://www.turtleisland.org/healing/highwayoftears.pdf

Jorge Barerra, “100s of Faceless Dolls Disappear” (Oct 10, 2017) http://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/mmiwg-faceless-dolls-disappear-1.4363768

 

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

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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!