Accommodation

I understand why our Prime Minister would prefer to be in Barbados this week. The challenges to which he is returning may be without remedy. In a matter of a few days, a seemingly internecine dispute over who speaks for some Indigenous folks in British Columbia has escalated into a full-on crisis bearing the charming imperative #shutdowncanada.

For the purposes of this comment, I will seek to set aside the troubling fact that this moment is being seized upon by a great many groups opposed to pipelines, fossil fuel extraction, climate change and all manner of causes, only to caution that inflaming tensions in a fraught relationship isn’t helpful, and is likely to provoke a bitter response by those whose jobs and livelihoods are impacted. For some, this is precisely the aim, though I suspect it is an extremely small number of Canadians.

Most want our Indigenous neighbours to succeed, to thrive and to raise their families in safe and supportive communities. Most want to find a way to make this happen.

But what if it is accommodation itself that is at the root of our broken relationship? What if a century of efforts— some sincere, some otherwise—to accommodate the needs of a geographically dispersed and often remote population has become a factor in our current dysfunction?

The concept of accommodation implies an unequal relationship—an accommodator and accommodate, one who is being accommodated. It suggests one party with something of value, granting to another in some form of transaction, with terms and conditions. It seems an unhealthy arrangement.

For some, it is an imperfect but reasonable way to move past the current irritation. For others, it is a pathway forward—that a succession of accommodations will eventually lead us to equilibrium and a peaceful co-existence. My own sense is that at best, it only punts the problem down the road, and at worst it transactionalizes our relationship between Canadians.

Land certainly remains central to the disputes that tend to produce such crises. Yet there is a growing mound of jurisprudence suggesting that even in unceded territory in B.C. there is law guiding a way forward, albeit slow and tedious. (See Delgamuukw v. British Columbia and Tsilhqot’in Nation v. British Columbia).

Wet’suwet’en, however, seems more a governance issue than a land fight. The band council supports the proposed gas pipeline, some of the hereditary chiefs do not. This seems a local matter—to be sorted in that community.

Yet the railway through Tyendinaga is blocked. Four thousand miles away. In support of Wet’suwet’en folks? Of what, precisely? We are urged to lend support. And many folks are inclined to do so. But support what exactly?

Responses quickly escape the confines of this northern BC community and blossoms into more generalized grievances: Clean water in Attawapiskat? Rewriting the Indian Act? Secondary education in remote communities?

All worthy goals, but each involves difficult, complex discussions that no one seems prepared to contemplate in a serious way. Who speaks for the folks in Davis Inlet, Newfoundland, Baker Lake, Nunavut or Kwakwaka’wakw, on Vancouver Island? Who sorts competing claims? Who is served by underwriting communities without a functioning economy?

We seem no closer to answering these questions than we were when I was growing up next to Akwesasne in the 1970s. We have mostly—despite many rounds of accommodation, reams of reports and commission findings—kicked the big issues down the road. Opting for symbols and soothing words rather than enduring solutions.

Meanwhile, another generation learns that the rule of law doesn’t apply to all Canadians. This is corrosive to everyone inflicted with this realpolitik.

It seems fitting that Mr. Trudeau finds himself ensnared by this file, after so much sanctimony about how a Liberal government would lead Canada to reconciliation.

This particular crisis seems likely to end with some grand words and a substantial cheque. A transaction. And like every previous such crisis, the underlying challenges will be kicked down the road. Only to rise again.

rick@wellingtontimes.ca