The progressive bias in our national institutions, and particularly in our media and our universities, is so clear and indisputable that I won’t waste your time, dear reader, reciting the evidence. The only things worth discussing are its nature, its source, and the solution.

Of these, the last is the most important. There must be a “solution” because the problem of institutional bias is not an immutable law of nature. It is not something we just have to shrug and accept, like snow in winter or rain in Vancouver. And because it can be fixed, governments that recognise and reject the bias have a duty to do so.

But first let’s consider the nature and the source of bias.

In the recent dustup between Pierre Poilievre and CTV, the major journalistic sin was the deceptive splicing of Poilievre’s words to invent a sentence he never said. But as The Hub‘s Sean Speer pointed out, the fact that they made it appear (incorrectly) that he wanted to bring down the government and force an election over dental care, of all things, was also revealing.

“In what world does CTV News staff (including its senior journalists) scan the country’s political environment and decide that dental care is the biggest issue or think that it will be decisive in the next federal election? The choice is clearly a highly editorialised presentation of the political facts that’s at least as manufactured as the words put into Poilievre’s mouth,” wrote Speer.

Whether the choice was conscious or unconscious, it is an example of how our national news is not just dominated by the issues that interest very online professionals living in the Laurentian corridor but also shaped by their assumptions about those issues.

The following remarks were given by former Chilliwack-Fraser Canyon MP Chuck Strahl to his local Rotary club in about 2017 or 2018. Strahl served as an MP for 17 years and held a number of ministerial roles in Stephen Harper’s cabinet over that time, including as minister of Indian affairs and northern development. 

The remarks were passed along to his children in 2021 to mark the occasion of the first National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, and are reprinted here with their permission. He included the following note to his family with the speech: 

“What follows is a copy of remarks I made to our local Rotary Club, three to four years ago. I was asked to make this speech to address the efforts of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which had completed its initial work. For those who wish to plough through it, it’ll take a few minutes, but perhaps it will help to understand the issue better.

Of course, society has changed and expectations too. Whereas 10-12 years ago you could hardly find a reporter to even cover Indigenous issues, and people generally shrugged off Indigenous stories when they heard them, they’re getting better attention (and action) nowadays. Maybe especially today.”

Chuck

Disclaimer: before I start, I want to emphasize that I don’t speak for Aboriginal people, and make no claim to “understand” what they went through collectively at residential schools. That story was and still is theirs to tell. I’m here to talk a bit about what I saw and learned about reconciliation as a member of the federal government.

I also apologize in advance that my usual presentation style includes its share of funny stories and light-hearted banter. This subject matter doesn’t lend itself to that, so you’ll excuse me if it has a more serious tone than usual.

Let me start by reading the “Apology to Residential School Students.” It gives a good snapshot of what happened, its impact, and the government response. I’ll talk about that a bit, then I’ll go back to the beginning to relate a personal story, then apply the Rotary four-way test, to see how we might look at this whole thing as Rotarians. I’ll conclude with some observations about reconciliation, then hopefully take some questions.

This, then, was what was said on the floor of the House of Commons on June 11, 2008, when the prime minister of Canada, the Right Honorable Stephen Harper, made a Statement of Apology to former students of Indian Residential Schools, on behalf of the Government of Canada.

The treatment of children in Indian Residential Schools is a sad chapter in our history.For more than a century, Indian Residential Schools separated over 150,000 Aboriginal children from their families and communities. In the 1870s, the federal government, partly in order to meet its obligation to educate Aboriginal children, began to play a role in the development and administration of these schools. Two primary objectives of the Residential Schools system were to remove and isolate children from the influence of their homes, families, traditions and cultures, and to assimilate them into the dominant culture. These objectives were based on the assumption Aboriginal cultures and spiritual beliefs were inferior and unequal. Indeed, some sought, as it was infamously said, “to kill the Indian in the child.” Today, we recognize that this policy of assimilation was wrong, has caused great harm, and has no place in our country.

One hundred and thirty-two federally-supported schools were located in every province and territory, except Newfoundland, New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island. Most schools were operated as “joint ventures” with Anglican, Catholic, Presbyterian or United Churches. The Government of Canada built an educational system in which very young children were often forcibly removed from their homes, often taken far from their communities. Many were inadequately fed, clothed and housed. All were deprived of the care and nurturing of their parents, grandparents and communities. First Nations, Inuit and Métis languages and cultural practices were prohibited in these schools. Tragically, some of these children died while attending residential schools and others never returned home.

The government now recognizes that the consequences of the Indian Residential Schools policy were profoundly negative and that this policy has had a lasting and damaging impact on Aboriginal culture, heritage and language. While some former students have spoken positively about their experiences at residential schools, these stories are far overshadowed by tragic accounts of the emotional, physical and sexual abuse and neglect of helpless children, and their separation from powerless families and communities.

The legacy of Indian Residential Schools has contributed to social problems that continue to exist in many communities today. It has taken extraordinary courage for the thousands of survivors that have come forward to speak publicly about the abuse they suffered. It is a testament to their resilience as individuals and to the strength of their cultures. Regrettably, many former students are not with us today and died never having received a full apology from the Government of Canada.

The government recognizes that the absence of an apology has been an impediment to healing and reconciliation. Therefore, on behalf of the Government of Canada and all Canadians, I stand before you, in this Chamber so central to our life as a country, to apologize to Aboriginal peoples for Canada’s role in the Indian Residential Schools system.

To the approximately 80,000 living former students, and all family members and communities, the Government of Canada now recognizes that it was wrong to forcibly remove children from their homes and we apologize for having done this. We now recognize that it was wrong to separate children from rich and vibrant cultures and traditions that it created a void in many lives and communities, and we apologize for having done this. We now recognize that, in separating children from their families, we undermined the ability of many to adequately parent their own children and sowed the seeds for generations to follow, and we apologize for having done this. We now recognize that, far too often, these institutions gave rise to abuse or neglect and were inadequately controlled, and we apologize for failing to protect you. Not only did you suffer these abuses as children, but as you became parents, you were powerless to protect your own children from suffering the same experience, and for this we are sorry.

The burden of this experience has been on your shoulders for far too long. The burden is properly ours as a Government, and as a country. There is no place in Canada for the attitudes that inspired the Indian Residential Schools system to ever prevail again. You have been working on recovering from this experience for a long time and in a very real sense, we are now joining you on this journey. The Government of Canada sincerely apologizes and asks the forgiveness of the Aboriginal peoples of this country for failing them so profoundly.

Nous le regrettons
We are sorry
Nimitataynan
Niminchinowesamin
Mamiattugut

In moving towards healing, reconciliation and resolution of the sad legacy of Indian Residential Schools, implementation of the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement began on September 19, 2007. Years of work by survivors, communities, and Aboriginal organizations culminated in an agreement that gives us a new beginning and an opportunity to move forward together in partnership.

A cornerstone of the Settlement Agreement is the Indian Residential Schools Truth and Reconciliation Commission. This Commission presents a unique opportunity to educate all Canadians on the Indian Residential Schools system. It will be a positive step in forging a new relationship between Aboriginal peoples and other Canadians, a relationship based on the knowledge of our shared history, a respect for each other and a desire to move forward together with a renewed understanding that strong families, strong communities and vibrant cultures and traditions will contribute to a stronger Canada for all of us.

On behalf of the Government of Canada
The Right Honourable Stephen Harper,
Prime Minister of Canada

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission

I was the minister of Indian affairs when the first meeting of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission took place at the Forks, in Winnipeg. I sat in a sharing circle with perhaps 15 or 20 other people, the majority of them First Nations, but also a smattering of church, school, and government types. Each person was a “witness,” either by giving testimony about what happened at the schools, or hearing it for the first time, and therefore “bearing witness” to what was said.

The “truths” we were hearing were not pleasant, and while all of us have heard something about the abuse or privations at the schools, it is a different thing to listen to a victim describe that abuse, in detail, and its impact on their lives, families, and communities. Church officials testified about what went on, and as we went around the circle the stories held us transfixed. I suppose that first circle of witnesses was chosen in part for the variety of perspectives they brought to the story. I thought I was handling things fairly well until the guy on my right started to tell his story.

He was an airplane pilot, not a First Nation guy, and during that era, he flew a float plane into isolated areas. I too had been a pilot during my logging days, and I could visualize what he was saying like I had done it myself.

“I landed at a lake in the middle of nowhere,” he said. “I was supposed to pick up a couple of First Nations kids and fly them to town to go to res school. I drifted over to a log by the shore where this little family waited. There were just the four of them, Mom and Dad, and the two children. The kids were maybe six and eight years old and had never been close to an airplane let alone in one. They spoke not a word of English. They had all their worldly belongings in a cardboard box, and they clung to their parents for all they were worth. The Dad had to pry them loose and put them in the plane. I took off from the lake and saw the parents standing on that log, trying to get one last glimpse of their children. I thought, what have I done?

“When we landed on the lake near town,” he continued, “I pulled up to the dock but there were no social workers or even school teachers to pick up the kids. Instead, I called a taxi and put those two children in a cab with their cardboard box. The children had no idea where they were, what was happening, what we were saying, nothing. The man drove them away, and I never saw them again.”

I had never picked up some scared and lonely children in my plane, but many times I had landed on remote lakes and drifted up to a log just as he described. And I had grandchildren just that age, and in my wildest nightmares I couldn’t imagine putting them into the hands of strangers, prying their fingers from my own. I wasn’t the only one that day, but I wept openly within that circle, just hearing what had happened. And some version of that scene happened tens of thousands of times to Aboriginal people across the country.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, which partly describes the residential school system that compelled First Nations to send their children away. Some fortunate students even speak fondly of their time in res school, but for the most part, it was far more insidious than that road I spoke of. The schools were set up to “kill the Indian in the child.” Often, there were no good intentions at all.

In many ways, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, or TRC, was to be the centerpiece and the first of the government’s response. TRC Commissions had been used successfully in South Africa by Nelson Mandela and in Chile to deal with that country’s post-war reconciliation efforts. Our Canadian version would be a little different, but it was the same idea: provide a venue and opportunity to hear from those who had been victimized by government policy and actions and to propose next steps.

What makes for a good apology

There are, say the experts, some characteristics of a good apology that you can measure it by. They go something like this:

First: the Apology should express remorse. Every apology needs to start with two magic words: “I’m sorry,” or “I apologize.” This is essential because these words express remorse over your action.

Step 2: Admit responsibility. It’s important to empathize with the person you wronged and demonstrate that you understand how you made them feel.

“The government now recognizes that the consequences of the Indian Residential Schools policy were profoundly negative and that this policy has had a lasting and damaging impact on Aboriginal culture, heritage and language…(resulting in) the emotional, physical and sexual abuse and neglect of helpless children, and their separation from powerless families and communities. The legacy of Indian Residential Schools has contributed to social problems that continue to exist in many communities today.“

Step 3: make amends. When you make amends, you take action to make the situation right.

Step 4: promise that it won’t happen again. It’s essential to explain that you won’t repeat the action or behaviour. This step is important because you reassure the other person that you’re going to change your behaviour. This helps rebuild trust and repair the relationship

And finally, no meaningful apology ever offers excuses for what you’ve done.

The four-way test

Since this is a Rotary meeting and we try to live out our creed, how—or did—the apology meet the Rotary four-way test: Is it the truth? Is it fair to all concerned? Will it build goodwill and friendships? Is it beneficial?

So how did all of this match up to the four-way test?

First, was it the truth?

Getting to the truth of what happened during the residential school era was important, so the testimony of those who had first-hand experiences was important so we could all understand and appreciate what had happened, how and why it happened, and how it affected both perpetrators and victims.

As always in politics, I urge people to differentiate between the truth and political opinion. For example, it may be an opinion that cracking down on youth crime is an effective deterrent to other young people contemplating a life of crime. Someone else might believe that young people make mistakes, and we should be as lenient as possible until they grow up and mature. Those are both opinions and deserve a debate, and in parliamentary tradition, likely a compromise position will end up with legislation somewhere along the continuum. But truth is not debatable. If there were 5,000 young offenders in the system last year, but more than 7,000 a decade ago, then the truth is, young offenders are less of an issue than they once were.

With the residential school system, people will point to a success story for a particular school, teacher, or church, and use it to explain that it wasn’t all bad, and “let’s not get into the weeds here.” But what was apparent from testimony at the TRC was that the truth was not like that, at all. Systemic abuse, widespread neglect, shoddy supervision, and both passive neglect and active malfeasance were a reality and consequence of the residential school system. So we can’t use an occasional anecdotal good news story to excuse the awful fallout of the residential school history. The TRC was able to document this history through personal testimony and access to church and government records. For the first time, all could see the magnitude of the problem, the generational impacts, and the personal tragedies of the system. That was the truth borne out by the commission’s work.

Was the TRC fair to all concerned?

I believe the work of the commission was as fair as it could be, though it is difficult to define fairness when that is often in the eye of the beholder. Some First Nation people felt that the hearings were not held close enough to their communities, or that there were unfair restrictions on the amount of time they were allowed to speak. Some good teachers and schools felt their testimony was ignored. But I believe the commission went out of its way to ensure that both public and private venues were available for survivors, that counseling was in place for those who needed or wanted it, and that everyone was heard.

The commission, the directors, the counselors, the agenda, the hearings, the writing of the final report, the recommendations, all of it was organized by Indigenous people themselves.

The government paid out a monetary payment to all students, and a separate fund and payment went to those who were abused. No one pretended that this would solve or soften the impact on these lives, but it was considered fair by the courts and I suppose in that sense it fulfilled an obligation.

Did it build goodwill and friendships?

At a certain level, I believe it did. Understanding what happened, spending meaningful time together, the counseling and support, raising the profile of the issue, getting the story into school curriculums, and respecting cultural differences all help to build goodwill and friendships.

Was it beneficial?

Yes, it was. Time and again I had people tell me that until they heard the apology and listened to the stories, they had no idea that something like this had happened in Canada. It allowed many survivors to begin the healing process, and by having a legitimate process in place, it allowed many others to document their personal history and ensure it wasn’t forgotten. So in many ways, the apology, the TRC, and its aftermath passed the four-wayway test. Lots of truth—hard truth—came out, benefits were both tangible and intangible, many people engaged in honest efforts of reconciliation, and some deep and lasting friendships developed where it wouldn’t have happened previously.

But benefits were uneven, unfortunately, though this wasn’t a surprise. As the prime minister suggested in his apology, this is a journey, and not everyone is at the place where forgiveness is possible. At the two extremes were two examples that stand out to me.

What’s next?

In the aftermath of the apology, a group of First Nations, largely though not exclusively from Ontario, put together what they called “The Forgiveness Summit.” The gist of it was that this group heard the prime minister’s statement when he said he was sorry, but they also heard him say, “We ask for your forgiveness.” This group of First Nations decided that they would officially “forgive” the prime minister, not for all First Nations, but for those who were at a place in their journey where they felt they could do that, and probably, that healing in their own lives was more likely if it started with forgiving those who had wronged them. It was a profound meeting for those who attended, and I hoped and felt it was a big step forward for us all.

On the other end of the spectrum, I could tell we were a long way from meaningful reconciliation when I was told by a grand chief here in B.C., that, “I hope one day that it won’t be necessary to teach my grandchildren to hate white men. But we’re still a long ways away from that.“ I felt just hopeless at his words, but he had been lied to before, no doubt, so his guard remained up.

A couple of observations from this whole reconciliation effort.

First, sometimes I think we aren’t speaking the same language.

This isn’t an English versus First Nations language misunderstanding, this is a clash of cultures and world views. On one hand, there’s a European legal and moral perspective, not necessarily right or wrong, that’s different than an Indigenous perspective, which is not necessarily right or wrong, but is different than the view held by society’s majority.

Here’s the language used by First Nations in dealing with the government. They use terms like the honour of the crown, community stewards, elders, meaningful relationships, forgiveness, reconciliation, healing, sacred covenants, even truth itself. This isn’t the language currency typically used, day by day, by governments or political parties. They are commonly used, outside of First Nations circles, in spiritual, or at least personal terms. But they’re used all the time by First Nations themselves.

To me, this language and cultural difference means we speak past one another. Everyone is in the same room and hears the same words but receives a different message. Both sides wake up the next morning and ask themselves why the other side doesn’t get it.

Second, barring the miraculous, some people will not be able to forgive or to recover from what happened to them.

This isn’t shocking but is crushing, nonetheless. We can’t expect people who have lost everything meaningful to them—their children, their innocence, their language, cultural connection, and who were abused by people in trusted positions—to simply shrug their shoulders and say, “Hey, let’s move on.” Some of them can’t. I’m not surprised. Their journey is hard, and their future is bleak. I can only imagine.

Finally, reconciliation isn’t only, or even primarily, a government/First Nation responsibility.

Governments deal in legislation, in program delivery, in contracts, in legalities. Sometimes they do that well, other times less so, but enough to say that sometimes there are things only a government can do. Many of the recommendations of the TRC will have to be done by governments if they are to be done at all.

But governments are also limited in what they can do. They don’t do spiritual things very well. When it comes to healing, forgiveness, acceptance, and reconciliation, etc, it is far more likely to involve individuals, or churches, or organizations like Rotary or MCC.

I happened upon a poem by former leader Preston Manning that speaks to this. It was written years before the TRC but speaks to the limits of government. It goes like this:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again

And what is the moral of this little rhyme
A moral with meaning for us in our time
The moral is this and its lesson is true
There ARE certain things that the STATE cannot do

If all the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Cannot put an egg back together again
Is it not a false hope, an illusion, a sin
To ask civil servants to reconstruct men

If we rely on governments or corporations to somehow “fix” the issues, rather than look inwardly to see what part we must play, this reconciliation will be spotty at best. This goes for both victims and perpetrators. You cannot expect a grand chief or a minister of the Crown to make everything right in your life. You have to own reconciliation if you want to experience it personally.

So there you have it. The apology, reconciliation, forgiveness, and the four-way test all receive a grade that would read as follows if we got it on our school report card: ”Good progress over the past while was made on these subjects. However, students will have to continue their efforts if they want to see better results next semester.”

I trust and hope that governments, Indigenous people, corporations, NGOs, and us as individuals will all work hard, to see continued progress on this journey we’re in, together.