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Indigenous

B.C.’s plan to ‘reconcile’ by giving First Nations a veto on land use

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From the MacDonald Laurier Institute

By Bruce Pardy

UNDRIP-inspired land law reforms are poised to turn province into an untenable host for mining, forestry and much more.

We live in strange times. A new generation of political leaders seems determined to cripple their own societies. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, of course, comes to mind. But in Canada, he is not alone. In British Columbia, NDP Premier David Eby is preparing to bring his province to its knees.

The B.C. government plans to share management of Crown land with First Nations. The scheme will apply not to limited sections of public land here and there, but across the province. The government quietly opened public consultations on the proposal last week. According to the scant materials, the government will amend the B.C. Land Act to incorporate agreements with Indigenous governing bodies.

These agreements will empower B.C.’s hundreds of First Nations to make joint decisions with the minister responsible for the Land Act, the main law under which the provincial government grants leases, licences, permits and rights-of-way over Crown land. That means that First Nations will have a veto over how most of B.C. is used. Joint management can be expected to apply to mining, hydro projects, farming, forestry, docks and communication towers, just to start. Activities at the heart of B.C.’s economy will be at risk.

In 2007, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). UNDRIP states, among other things, that Indigenous people own the land and resources of the countries in which they live. They have “the right to the lands, territories and resources which they have traditionally owned, occupied or otherwise used or acquired … to own, use, develop and control.”

At the time, Canada sensibly voted “no,” along with the United States, Australia and New Zealand. Eleven countries abstained. In 2016, Trudeau’s government reversed Canada’s objection.

As a General Assembly declaration, UNDRIP is not binding in international law nor enforceable in domestic courts. But in 2019, under the leadership of Eby’s predecessor John Horgan, the B.C. legislature passed Bill 41, the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act. The act requires the government of B.C. to “take all measures necessary to ensure the laws of British Columbia are consistent with the Declaration.” Eby’s joint management plan is the next step in this project.

Long before UNDRIP, the Supreme Court of Canada created a constitutional “duty to consult” with Aboriginal peoples. The court said that the “honour of the Crown” governs the relationship between the government and Aboriginal people. The Crown’s fiduciary duties include a duty to consult whenever proposed action may adversely affect established or asserted Aboriginal rights under Section 35 of the Constitution. This duty is notoriously uncertain, onerous and time-consuming. It has become an albatross around the neck of the Canadian resource industry. The courts seem unable to specify what the duty to consult requires, except after the fact.

Now, the B.C. government aims to make things even more unpredictable. Whatever the contours of the right to be consulted, the Supreme Court at least has been clear that it does not constitute a veto. Eby will create one.

Shortly before the B.C. legislature passed Bill 41 in November 2019, the Continuing Legal Education Society of British Columbia sponsored an Aboriginal Law Conference featuring several Indigenous proponents of the bill. They promised that the new law would render the province unrecognizable.

It will “set up a whole new norm,“ “give teeth to (UNDRIP),” and move the province away, if “not fully,” from the Westminster model of governance. The veto to be conferred on Indigenous interest groups, they said, will mean that “consent will not be given very often, if at all.”

“We’re not talking small changes; we’re talking big changes,” one speaker suggested, adding that money provided by the government so far hasn’t been enough.

“Compensation for sacred sites, for lands taken, for relocation … it’s going to be an overwhelming number of compensation claims … and so I’m hoping that the province is ready for that…. Life (in B.C.) can and will change.”

For many, it is likely to change for the worse. B.C. could become an untenable host for land-based, resource-related enterprise. Impenetrable layers of red tape would entangle applications for leases and licenses. The price for First Nations approvals could be an increasing share of royalties and kickbacks, without which consent will be refused. Both governments and First Nations will siphon an ever-larger piece of a shrinking pie.

The government’s timeline is short. Written submissions will be accepted until the end of March, and anyone giving feedback will be limited by how little information the B.C. government has offered in the consultation. Bureaucrats will begin drafting amendments to the Land Act in early February, and the government plans to introduce a bill in April or May.

If you are feeling grateful not to live in B.C., don’t count your chickens. In 2021, Parliament passed its own version of B.C.’s Bill 41, the federal United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act. It requires the federal government to “take all measures necessary to ensure that the laws of Canada are consistent with the Declaration.” An action plan outlining more than 100 specific measures was released in 2023.

In a speech to the B.C. Business Council in 2016, I argued that our leaders could not do a better job of preventing Canadian business from succeeding in the global economy. I underestimated them. Their determination and ingenuity know no bounds.

Bruce Pardy is executive director of Rights Probe, professor of law at Queen’s University, and senior fellow with the Macdonald-Laurier Institute.

Canadian Energy Centre

Trans Mountain completion shows victory of good faith Indigenous consultation

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Photo courtesy Trans Mountain Corporation

From the Canadian Energy Centre

By Joseph Quesnel

‘Now that the Trans Mountain expansion is finally completed, it will provide trans-generational benefits to First Nations involved’

While many are celebrating the completion of the Trans Mountain pipeline expansion project for its benefit of delivering better prices for Canadian energy to international markets, it’s important to reflect on how the project demonstrates successful economic reconciliation with Indigenous communities.

It’s easy to forget how we got here.

The history of Trans Mountain has been fraught with obstacles and delays that could have killed the project, but it survived. This stands in contrast to other pipelines such as Energy East and Keystone XL.

Starting in 2012, proponent Kinder Morgan Canada engaged in consultation with multiple parties – including many First Nation and Métis communities – on potential project impacts.

According to Trans Mountain, there have been 73,000 points of contact with Indigenous communities throughout Alberta and British Columbia as the expansion was developed and constructed. The new federal government owners of the pipeline committed to ongoing consultation during early construction and operations phase.

Beyond formal Indigenous engagement, the project proponent conducted numerous environmental and engineering field studies. These included studies drawing on deep Indigenous input, such as traditional ecological knowledge studies, traditional land use studies, and traditional marine land use studies.

At each stage of consultation, the proponent had to take into consideration this input, and if necessary – which occurred regularly – adjust the pipeline route or change an approach.

With such a large undertaking, Kinder Morgan and later Trans Mountain Corporation as a government entity had to maintain relationships with many Indigenous parties and make sure they got it right.

Trans Mountain participates in a cultural ceremony with the Shxw’ōwhámél First Nation near Hope, B.C. Photograph courtesy Trans Mountain

It was the opposite of the superficial “checklist” form of consultation that companies had long been criticized for.

While most of the First Nation and Métis communities engaged in good faith with Kinder Morgan, and later the federal government, and wanted to maximize environmental protections and ensure they got the best deal for their communities, environmentalist opponents wanted to kill the project outright from the start.

After the government took over the incomplete expansion in 2018, green activists were transparent about using cost overruns as a tactic to scuttle and defeat the project. They tried to make Trans Mountain ground zero for their anti-energy divestment crusade, targeting investors.

It is an amazing testament to importance of Trans Mountain that it survived this bad faith onslaught.

In true eco-colonialist fashion, the non-Indigenous activist community did not care that the consultation process for Trans Mountain project was achieving economic reconciliation in front of their eyes. They were “fair weather friends” who supported Indigenous communities only when they opposed energy projects.

They missed the broad support for the Trans Mountain expansion. As of March 2023, the project had signed agreements with 81 Indigenous communities along the proposed route worth $657 million, and the project has created over $4.8 billion in contracts with Indigenous businesses.

Most importantly, Trans Mountain saw the maturing of Indigenous capital as Indigenous coalitions came together to seek equity stakes in the pipeline. Project Reconciliation, the Alberta-based Iron Coalition and B.C.’s Western Indigenous Pipeline Group all presented detailed proposals to assume ownership.

Although these equity proposals have not yet resulted in a sale agreement, they involved taking that important first step. Trans Mountain showed what was possible for Indigenous ownership, and now with more growth and perhaps legislative help from provincial and federal governments, an Indigenous consortium will be eventually successful when the government looks to sell the project.

If an Indigenous partner ultimately acquires an equity stake in Trans Mountain, observers close to the negotiations are convinced it will be a sizeable stake, well beyond 10 per cent. It will be a transformative venture for many First Nations involved.

Now that the Trans Mountain expansion is finally completed, it will provide trans-generational benefits to First Nations involved, including lasting work for Indigenous companies. It will also demonstrate the victory of good faith Indigenous consultation over bad faith opposition.

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Frontier Centre for Public Policy

Budget 2024 as the eve of 1984 in Canada

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From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy

By Michael Melanson

Those who claim there are unmarked burials have painted themselves into a corner. If there are unmarked burials, there have had to be murders because why else would anyone attempt to conceal the deaths?

The Federal Government released its Budget 2024 last week. In addition to hailing a 181% increase in spending on Indigenous priorities since 2016, “Budget 2024 also proposes to provide $5 million over three years, starting in 2025-26, to Crown-Indigenous Relations and Northern Affairs Canada to establish a program to combat Residential School denialism.” Earlier this spring, the government proclaimed:

The government anticipates the Special Interlocutor’s final report and recommendations in spring 2024. This report will support further action towards addressing the harmful legacy of residential schools through a framework relating to federal laws, regulations, policies, and practices surrounding unmarked graves and burials at former residential schools and associated sites. This will include addressing residential school denialism.

Like “Reconciliation,” the exact definition of what the Federal government means by “residential school denialism” is not clear. In this vague definition, there is, of course, a potential for legislating vindictiveness.

What further action is needed to address “the harmful legacy of residential schools” except to enforce a particular narrative about the schools as being only harmful? Is it denialism to point out that many students, such as Tomson Highway and Len Marchand, had positive experiences at the schools and that their successful careers were, in part, made possible by their time in residential school? If the study of history is subordinated to promoting a particular political narrative, is it still history or has it become venal propaganda?

Since the sensational May 27, 2021, claim that 215 children’s remains had been found in a Kamloops orchard, the Trudeau government has been chasing shibboleths. The Kamloops claim remains unsubstantiated to this day in two glaring ways: no names of children missing from the Kamloops IRS (Indian Residential Schools) have been presented and no human remains have been uncovered. For anyone daring to point out this absence of evidence, their reward is being the target of a witch hunt. As we recently witnessed in Quesnel, B.C., to be labeled as a residential school denialist is to be drummed out of civil society.

If we must accept a particular political narrative of the IRS as the history of the IRS, does our freedom of conscience and speech have any meaning?

To the discredit of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, fictions of missing and murdered children circulating long before the Commission’s inception were subsumed by the TRC (Truth and Reconciliation Commission). Unmarked graves and burials were incorporated into the TRC’s work as probable evidence of foul play. In the end, the TRC found no evidence of any murders committed by any staff against any students throughout the entirety history of the residential schools. Unmarked graves are explained as formerly marked and lawful graves that had since become lost due to neglect and abandonment. Unmarked burials, if they existed, could be construed as evidence of criminal acts, but such burials associated with the schools have never been proven to exist.

Those who claim there are unmarked burials have painted themselves into a corner. If there are unmarked burials, there have had to be murders because why else would anyone attempt to conceal the deaths? If there are thousands of unmarked burials, there are thousands of children who went missing from residential schools. How could thousands of children go missing from schools without even one parent, one teacher, or one Chief coming forward to complain?

There are, of course, neither any missing children nor unmarked burials and the Special Interlocutor told the Senate Committee on Indigenous People: “The children aren’t missing; they’re buried in the cemeteries. They’re missing because the families were never told where they’re buried.”

Is it denialism to repeat or emphasize what the Special Interlocutor testified before a Senate Committee? Is combating residential school denialism really an exercise in policing wrongthink? Like the beleaguered Winston in Orwell’s 1984, it is impossible to keep up with the state’s continual revision of the past, even the recent past.

For instance, the TRC’s massive report contains a chapter on the “Warm Memories” of the IRS. Drawing attention to those positive recollections is now considered “minimizing the harms of residential schools.”

In 1984, the state sought to preserve itself through historical revision and the enforcement of those revisions. In the Trudeau government’s efforts to enforce a revision of the IRS historical record, the state is not being preserved. How could it be if the IRS is now considered to be a colossal genocide? The intent is to preserve the party in government and if it means sending Canada irretrievably down a memory hole as a genocidaire, so be it.

Michael Melanson is a writer and tradesperson in Winnipeg.

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