Although BC’s last Indian residential school closed for over 30 years ago the effect those institutions have over our people makes it seem as though they are still open. Indeed, the invisible hand of the Indian residential schools is still upon aborignal peoples and continues to influence them in ways they may not even be aware of.
Indian residential schools were a social experiment carried out by church and state that went tragically wrong. This childhood disruption is known to all aboriginal families and the matter remains largely unresolved. The Indian residential school experience is also deeply embedded in survivors and their families and is as much a part of aborignal peoples psyches as other peoples the world over who suffered similar tragedies.
Residential schools are not a new phenomenon. There were residential schools in India, Ireland, Scotland, South Afrika, Australia, New Zeland, Singapore, the Congo, and even in Japan. I was recently surprised to learn that the Ainu peoples who reside on the island of Hokaido also struggle with issues such as language and cultural erosion just as aboriginal peoples here do.
It was federal policy that kids had to be sent away to Indian residential school for ten months out of the year, often times far from family. This was mandatory, not voluntary. By definition, being taken from family and sent far away in every other context is called a sentence, or internment.
By and large most of the aboriginal children who attended Indian residential school in Pt. Alberni never came from Pt. Alberni; they were often from northern BC for instance. It was also common for aboriginal children from Pt. Alberni to be sent to Indian residential schools in Mission, Kamloops, or even Alberta. Siblings were known to be split up and sent to different schools.
Once inside Indian residential schools aborignal children ended up living in a place that resembled a jail more than a school. They were raised by peers who were also far from parents, nurtured by and uncaring staff, hated in public schools, and in the worst cases preyed on. They had no parents or siblings to turn to for comfort, advice, or confiding in. They'd go home for two months out of the year but as a result of their experience were more like strangers to their parents and siblings. They didn’t like being in one place and didn’t feel like they belonged in the other. Given a choice who would want this for themselves or their children?
The fact that it was mandatory for aboriginal children to attend Indian residential schools far away from family and home expunges any notion of good feelings. To rationalize their pain those who attended grasped on to any positive thing that happened just to deal with it. People who came out of abusive relationships often say that they grasped on to little good things make it seem, or make themselves, feel good. It's a coping mechanism. I remember listening to a guy reminisce about what a great time he had where he was: he had three meals a day, a warm bed, peers to socialize with, activities to do, and movies once a week. Great life, lots of good memories. There's just one thing- he was in jail. You’d think the architects of this tragic social experiment would be sorry. Well they are, sort of.
A few years back there was an apology made by the federal government to Indian residential school survivors. It was cold and disingenuous to say the least. It was worded in such a way that it didn't admit to anything, didn't say anything that would have rendered them in any way liable, and was probably written by a team of lawyers so it read like a 16th century proclamation preceded by "Here ye, Here ye." Ironically, this apology took place just before the Nuuchahnulth-wide vote on the first failed Nuuchahnulth Agreement In Principle, a step in the now stalled BC Treaty Process. This move can be fairly described as insincere, spuriously motivated, and calculating to say the least.
Watching as the apology was read aloud to Indian residential school survivors in Port Alberni a most insidious thing stood out: it was being read aloud by an aboriginal bureaucrat on behalf of the federal government to aboriginal survivors. Imagine an abusive spouse getting your sibling to apologize to you- sort of, for stuff the abusive spouse was responsible for. It made an already hurtful experience more hurtful I’m sure and brought this issue to a crossroads.
So where do we all go from here? Good question. As hard as it is, and as simple as it sounds I think we need to put one foot in front of the other and keep stepping. That is a common theme to freeing ones self from abuse or tragedy. Accept that you're going to trip and fall, that you're going to scrape your hands-knees-and face but you keep putting one foot in front of the other. What it takes to propell one's feet is another matter, but step we must.
Although I'm not sure of the means, non-aboriginals should collectively take part in healing with aboriginal peoples. Before this though we must first become a ‘collective’ and that means getting to know one another better. Collectively we can then act responsibly and move towards healing. Indeed this may be seen as a burden by some or even as punishment by mean spirited critics. Having said this, there would be more of an exacting price to be paid for continued collective non-responsibility.
Until we do something together we'll forever be apart and ignorant of one another. I’ve always maintained that while we may all may reside in the same town we don't truly live together and aren’t truly a community in the truest sense of the word.
It’s not just the duty of citizens though to do this. Governments must dedicate themselves as well. It was after all government policy that led to the creation of the schools. Every government assumes responsibility for the deeds and misdeeds of its predecessors and every nation for the deeds and misdeeds of its past. Abiding by this responsibility without minimizing it would indeed be considered novel but aboriginal people have been waiting for just such a novelty.
About the question of money and whether it will it help Indian residential school survivors or not. Will it help people get over what happened to them? Only individual survivors know the answer for sure. For some the roots of their Indian residential school experience grew too deep and took hold and we have to accept that. Not everyone gets over abuse or tragedy. Having said this, there was no question of entitlement or discussion about whether it would help or not when it came to Japanese Second World War internment camp victims receiving restitution so there should be no question about Indian residential school victims receiving the same consideration. I also think the question should not be “will money help” but rather “where can money help?”
First Nations spend a considerable amount of time and attention to matters concerning treaty negotiations, land, fish, and logging. Having said this, not enough attention or consideration has been given to the moribund state our language has lapsed into. The bulk of any restitution therefore should go towards resurrecting and restoring our language.
Although seemingly invisible the erosion of our language represents maybe the most devastating fallout as a result of residential school. While fish and land are a part of our external identity our language is the essence of our peoples most inner core, and it remains maybe the last thing that truly makes us ‘us.’ We’re at a point where the number of fluent speakers of our language is a minority among their own people and this alarming statistic requires a long-term consistently applied strategy.
Discussing the issue of Indian residential schools here is a good start, and I emphasize start. I hope we've all learned something here. This dialogue should be treated neither as a means nor an end, but rather as a beginning.
Good things must start somewhere after all.
