WHY STUDY THE TRAUMATIC PAST?
THE EDUCATIONAL LEGACY OF CANADA’S TRUTH AND RECONCILIATION
COMMISSION (TRC): EXPLORING RATIONALES FOR THE INCLUSION OF THE
HISTORY OF INDIAN RESIDENTIAL SCHOOLS IN THE CURRICULUM
Brenda Darlene Davis
B.Ed., (distinction) The University of Alberta, 1984 LL.B., The University of Alberta, 1987 M.Ed., The University of Alberta, 1997 LL.M., York University (Osgoode Hall), 2008
A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF
THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
in
THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES
(Curriculum Studies)
THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA
(Vancouver)
August 2020
© Brenda Darlene Davis, 2020
The following individuals certify that they have read, and recommend to the Faculty of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies for acceptance, the dissertation entitled: Why study the traumatic past?
Exploring rationales for including the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum:
The educational legacy of Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC).
submitted by Brenda Darlene Davis in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
In Curriculum Studies
Examining Committee:
Dr. William F. Pinar, Curriculum Studies
Supervisor
Dr. Vanessa Andreotti, Educational Studies
Supervisory Committee Member
Dr. Cash Ahenakew, Educational Studies
Supervisory Committee Member
Dr. Cynthia Nicol, Curriculum Studies
University Examiner
Dr. Andre Mazawi, Educational Studies
University Examiner
Dr. Dwayne Donald, Education - Secondary Education, The University of Alberta
External University Examiner
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Abstract
Why study the traumatic past?
This research question was a response to the CMEC commitment (July 2014) to require study of Indian residential school history in Canadian schools. Educators would need to justify engaging with difficult knowledge in the classroom, so in support of their efforts I set out to explore justifications for studying our traumatic past.
First, I identified six groupings of justifications (rationale) based on literature from curriculum studies, Holocaust education literature and from the Indian Residential Schools Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) Reports, Indigenous writing, contemporary political, social and artistic commentary, case law and legal analysis.
Identification of Six Rationale:
1) Historical Understanding;
2) Citizenship Education;
3) Existential Study;
4) Remembrance and Hearing the Voices of Survivors;
5) Call to Witness and Bearing Witness to the Traumatic Past;
6) Taking Steps Toward Reconciliation.
Rationales #3-#6 were based on the TRC approach to historical trauma, grounded in Indigenous legal protocols and Indigenous wisdom traditions, requiring listening, bearing witness and only then moving toward reconciliation. The first two rationales (#1-#2) fit within existing curriculum parameters of historical consciousness and citizenship education. However, the third rationale, existential understanding, is not typically a justification for educational endeavours, although arguably it is essential when studying the traumatic past. The purpose in exploring these iii
rationales is to enable educators to make better choices in response to this mandated curriculum and to further education discourse.
My research approach is founded upon the concept of curriculum as a complicated conversation (Pinar, 2019) and the query: What might this national mandate to include the history of Indian residential schools mean in the complicated conversation that is Canadian curriculum studies? To this end, I explored each rationale using a research frame of verticality
(historical antecedents of concepts and events) and horizontality (contemporary context) as connected to the CMEC commitment. A praxis of métissage was used to weave the threads of diverse voices into this curriculum conversation. Thus, both the research approach and content are a unique contribution to education with the hope educators make informed choices in addressing the CMEC mandate and further reconciliatory efforts in Canada.
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Lay Summary
Why study the traumatic past? Canada’s top education officials decided ALL students must study Indian residential school history (CMEC, 2014) and I was curious: How do educators justify teaching about past trauma and what are their educational aims? I first identified and then explored six reasons (rationales) for such study:
1) Understanding History;
2) Citizenship Education;
3) Existential Study;
4) Hearing Victims Stories;
5) Bearing Witness;
6) Taking Steps Toward Reconciliation.
Each rationale is a lens through which an educator can explore the history of Indian residential schools. While each lens has educational benefits, it is the traditional Indigenous approach of first listening carefully to victim’s stories, then sharing what you heard and experienced with others through ‘bearing witness,’ that offers a profound educational experience that is premised on the importance of respect, relationship and ultimately reconciliation—the new 3 ‘R’s of education when studying the traumatic past.
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Preface
This dissertation is original, unpublished, independent work by the author, Brenda. D. Davis.
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Table of Contents
Abstract ...... iii
Lay Summary ...... v
Preface ...... vi
Table of Contents ...... vii
List of Abbreviations ...... xiii
Acknowledgements ...... xiv
Dedication ...... xvi
Foreword ...... xvii
0.1 What Is My Story: How did I come to this research question? ...... xviii
0.2 My ‘Call to Witness’ to the Traumatic Past...... xxii
0.3 Formation of the Research Question – Why? ...... xxvii
0.4 Métissage: A Narrative of Interwoven Voices and an Invitation ...... xxix
Chapter 1: Introduction ...... 38
1.1 Legal Background ...... 39
1.2 CMEC Commitment to Difficult Knowledge ...... 43
1.3 Curriculum: The Complicated Conversation ...... 45
1.3.1 Rationale #1: Historical Understanding ...... 54
1.3.2 Rationale #2: Citizenship Education ...... 54
1.3.3 Rationale #3: Existential Study ...... 56
1.3.4 Comments on the Groupings of Rationales ...... 57
1.3.5 Rationale #4: Remembrance and Hearing the Voices of Survivors ...... 58 vii
1.3.6 Rationale #5: Call to Witness and Bearing Witness to the Traumatic Past ...... 59
1.3.7 Rationale #6: Taking Steps Toward Reconciliation ...... 60
1.4 Conclusion ...... 61
Chapter 2: Verticality, Horizontality and the Study of the Traumatic Past ...... 68
2.1 Introduction: Research Method and Methodology ...... 68
2.2 Case Study ...... 69
2.3 Disciplinarity: Verticality and Horizontality ...... 71
2.4 A Complex Métissage: A Method That is Not a Method ...... 72
2.5 Clarification and Caveats: What the Study is Not ...... 74
2.6 Difficult Knowledge and the Traumatic Past...... 80
2.7 Application of Horizontality and Verticality to Study Origins of TRC ...... 83
2.8 Cautions in the Classroom ...... 88
2.9 Constraints and Aims of ‘Lessons’ in the Study of the Traumatic Past ...... 93
2.10 Terms ...... 97
Chapter 3: Studying the Traumatic Past and the Discipline of History ...... 101
3.1 Historical Consciousness and Learning to Become a ‘Skillful’ Historian ...... 101
3.2 The Academic Discipline of History: Historiography and Master Narratives...... 104
3.3 History Wars: Promoting More Inclusive and Complex Narratives of the Past ...... 110
3.4 Three Approaches to History Education in Canada ...... 116
3.5 Historical Consciousness: Learning History as a ‘Skillful’ Historian ...... 118
3.6 Critique of Historic Consciousness ...... 121
3.7 Indigenous Worldview and Historical Consciousness ...... 123
3.8 Further Challenges: Western Historical Consciousness: ...... 126 viii
3.8.1 Basis for Reconciliation ...... 126
3.8.2 Emotional Resistance ...... 128
3.8.3 Victim and Survivor Testimony: The Study of Oral History ...... 131
3.8.4 The TRC: Reliance Upon Written Records and Oral History ...... 133
3.9 Conclusion ...... 138
Chapter 4: Citizenship Education ...... 144
4.1 Introduction to Four Aspects of Citizenship Education:...... 144
4.2 Canadian Context ...... 146
4.2.1 Indigenous Peoples’ Rights in Canada: Citizenship as Treaty Relationship ...... 148
4.2.2 Official Government Policy of Multiculturalism ...... 150
4.2.3 Canadian Constitution as a ‘Living Tree’ ...... 154
4.3 Canada’s Unique Position Vis-à-vis Citizenship Education ...... 157
4.4 Four Identified Aims of Citizenship Education ...... 159
4.5 Practices in Democratic and Indigenous Education...... 164
4.6 Democratic Education ...... 167
4.7 Human Rights Education ...... 177
4.8 Social Justice Lens in Citizenship Education ...... 186
4.9 Interpersonal Relations and Engagement With the ‘Other’ ...... 194
4.9.1 Social Emotional Learning (SEL) ...... 199
4.9.2 Restorative Justice Practices (RJP) ...... 202
4.10 Conclusion ...... 205
Chapter 5: Existential Understanding and Studying the Traumatic Past...... 212
5.1 Introduction: Challenging Curriculum ...... 212 ix
5.1.1 Challenge to Subjective Understanding – Requires Personal Choices ...... 213
5.1.2 Evokes Personal Unsettling and Vulnerability ...... 214
5.1.3 Raises Existential Questions – Generates Discomforting Emotions ...... 215
5.1.4 Fosters Personal Search for Meaning—Curriculum of ‘My Own Life’ ...... 216
5.2 Studying the Traumatic Past and Difficult Knowledge ...... 218
5.3 ‘Unsettling’—A Dynamic of Existential Understanding ...... 220
5.4 Dystopic Curriculum ...... 223
5.5 Survivor Narratives: Risks and Rewards ...... 228
5.6 Ways Forward: Remembrance and Transformational Education ...... 232
5.7 Teacher Discomfort and Resistance...... 236
5.8 Conclusion ...... 245
Chapter 6: Stories and Testimony—Listening To, and Honouring, Survivors ...... 252
6.1 Introduction ...... 252
6.2 The Importance of Hearing Survivor Stories and Witness Testimony ...... 254
6.2.1 Sharing Traumatic Narratives: The Resilience and Courage of Survivors ...... 258
6.2.2 Understanding Curriculum Through Traumatic Testimony ...... 259
6.3 Stories as a Gift ...... 260
6.4 Active Listening ...... 262
6.4.1 Cautions ...... 265
6.5 Acts of Remembrance: Honouring the Victims ...... 267
6.6 Oral History ...... 268
6.7 Public Memory and Orality: To Know the Past Differently ...... 270
6.8 Ceremony and Orality: Hearing the Voice of the ‘Other’ ...... 273 x
6.9 Orality, Meaning and Social Media ...... 274
6.10 Conclusion: Stories—Philosophical and Cultural ...... 277
Chapter 7: The Call to Witness and the Bearing of Witness ...... 280
7.1 Importance of Bearing Witness ...... 280
7.2 The Basis of Bearing Witness ...... 286
7.3 Witnessing and Education...... 298
7.4 Conclusion: Witnessing and the Transition to Reconciliation ...... 303
Chapter 8: Reconciliation and Curriculum ...... 308
8.1 Introduction ...... 308
8.2 What is Reconciliation? ...... 310
8.3 Reconciliation Reconsidered ...... 315
8.4 Education for Reconciliation ...... 320
8.4.1 World Views / Indigenous Perspectives ...... 321
8.4.2 Land Based Education ...... 327
8.4.3 Treaty Based Education ...... 331
8.4.4 Legal Perspectives and Obligations ...... 334
8.5 Becoming an Ally: Education for De-Colonization...... 347
8.6 Conclusion: Taking Steps Toward Reconciliation ...... 348
Chapter 9: Conclusion: Weaving Threads in the Curriculum Conversation ...... 362
9.1 Re-visiting the Research Question: Why Study the Traumatic Past? ...... 362
9.2 Contribution to Future Research: Research Approaches ...... 367
9.2.1 Currere ...... 371
9.2.2 Horizontality and Verticality ...... 373 xi
9.2.3 Métissage ...... 376
9.2.4 Curriculum as Complicated Conversation ...... 380
9.3 Summary of Findings for Educators ...... 385
9.3.1 Chapter 3 (Historical Understanding) Findings ...... 385
9.3.2 Chapter 4 (Citizenship Education) Findings ...... 385
9.3.2.1 Democratic Education ...... 386
9.3.2.2 Human Rights ...... 387
9.3.2.3 Social Justice ...... 387
9.3.2.4 Interpersonal Relationships ...... 388
9.3.3 Chapter 5 (Existential Study) Findings ...... 389
9.3.4 Chapters 6, 7, and 8 (Hearing, Witness, Reconciliation) Findings ...... 390
9.4 Limitations of the Study and Areas for Further Research ...... 394
9.5 Broader Application of Research – Canada and Beyond...... 398
9.6 Reconciliation: Legal Analysis and the Law ...... 400
9.7 Reconciliation and Resurgence ...... 404
9.8 Conclusion ...... 406
Bibliography ...... 411
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List of Abbreviations
Centre – Centre for Truth and Reconciliation
Crown – Government(s) of Canada and/or Provinces, Territories
CMEC – Council Ministers of Education, Canada
Indigenous People – First Nations, Inuit and Métis people in Canada
RCAP – Royal Commission on Aboriginal People (Canada)
RJP – Restorative Justice Practices
SEL – Social Emotional Learning
Settlement Agreement - Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement
Survivors – Indian Residential School Attendees
TRC – The Indian Residential Schools Truth and Reconciliation Commission
WWII – The 2nd World War
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Acknowledgements
I would first like to thank the Coast Salish People, on whose land UBC is situated and where I studied as a guest in their traditional territory. I would also like to say that I am grateful and proud to be a Treaty Six partner and I hope my research has contributed ‘in a good way.’
I was honoured to have worked with my Supervisor, Dr. William (Bill) Pinar throughout this VERY long thesis process. Dr. Pinar provided insightful guidance and helpful ‘provocation.’
I would also like to thank Committee Members Dr. Vanessa Andreotti and Dr. Cash Ahenakew who supported me throughout this research journey. It is also necessary to express my gratitude and appreciation for the time I had with Dr. William (Bill) Doll, Jr., who was member of my thesis committee—an amazing mentor and dear friend—who unfortunately passed away before this research came to fruition. Last, but certainly not least, I would like to recognize Dr. Karen
Meyer for her guidance as my ‘Pro-Tem’ during my early years of study. She was my initial inspiration for pursuing my PhD studies at UBC where I was fortunate to be awarded a four-year research fellowship that provided much appreciated financial support throughout my studies.
I met many wonderful graduate colleagues and my fondest memories at UBC are the deep discussions I had with fellow students in the EDCP 595 seminar with Dr. Doll and Dr.
Donna Trueit. Each week these classes offered stimulating conversations about education, philosophy and the meaning of life. Truly an incredible group of fellow-students – too many to list here – but you know who you are!
As I entered the final lap of my PhD, I owe a considerable debt to Dr. Rasunah Marsden, an Elder of the Mississaugas of Scugog First Nation, who met with me regularly to discuss process and who was both persistent and encouraging, seeming me through the thesis writing process to completion. xiv
I would also like to thank, Joseph Keyser my ‘writing buddy,’ (now a PhD grad and ordained as a Minister) who was always available to meet at a local coffee shop, to listen and offer wise guidance! Also, if it hadn’t been for his technical skills, I would never have been able to defend by Zoom - a necessary rite of passage for graduate students in this time of Covid-19!
Finally, I would like to recognize and express my gratitude to my friend, sister-in-law and academic mentor, Dr. Abigail Johnson, who gave invaluable feedback after reading through an entire draft of the thesis. She encouraged me to speak clearly and from the heart and her insightful comments elevated my writing to a higher level!
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Dedication
On a personal note, I would like to express my love to my life partner, Bruno for being there for me throughout this VERY long process and also to my two wonderful sons, Sage and
Nathan. Bruno kept my life functioning while I had the luxury of being immersed in the realm of ideas. I was always assured of his maintaining our life balance on a day-to-day level, so that my studies never (completely) took over my life! I always looked forward to conversations with
Nathan who provided me with much needed encouragement when the writing seemed overwhelming and Sage, who is a teacher in the public-school system, kept me grounded in the
‘real world’ of education and guided me in the right direction by encouraging me to focus on
Indigenous perspectives. I am so lucky to have all three of you in my life and I dedicate this work to each of you for your ongoing love and support!
Finally, a big thank-you to my extended family and the many, many, good friends who never questioned my return to school and who endured years of student stories when I shared my experiences, questions, challenges and all too often the overwhelming angst of PhD studies.
Thank you one and all for your enduring patience and moral support!
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Foreword
Hello, Bonjour, Tanisi - Welcome! Bienvenue! Tawow!
I begin with an acknowledgement. I thank the Coast Salish People for their hospitality and their stewardship of the land on which I worked and studied during the time I was a student at the University of British Columbia. My permanent home is in Alberta within Treaty Six territory.
I was born and lived most of my life in Edmonton and I am grateful and proud to be a Treaty Six partner. The signatories of Treaty Six include the Plains Cree, Wood Cree, Nakota, Saulteaux,
Dene and the Canadian federal government (Crown). Indicative of the troubled history between settlers and Indigenous People is the reality that the city of Edmonton encompasses land of the
Papachase (Cree) who were signatories to Treaty Six, yet as their land was within the growing urban centre, they were (within nine years of signing Treaty Six) removed from the land initially reserved for them. Their claim to this land or compensation has not been recognized by either the
Federal Government or by the courts although the City of Edmonton recently worked with the
Papachase band council (elected in 1999) to protect traditional burial grounds in the heart of the city from further development.
As a child growing up in Edmonton, I knew very little about these origin stories or the histories of the land upon which I lived. This is undoubtably similar to the experience of many
Canadians. However, I have been fortunate to experience a learning journey which has filled in some of the missing historical context and provided a stronger connection to the land. Both are indicative of changes in myself as a result of engaging in this research which has been a primary focus of my life for the past several years. I have also come to appreciate the importance of sharing personal stories for these are vital for “identifying, at the outset, the location from which the voice of the researcher emanates [and] is an Aboriginal way of ensuring that those who xvii
study, write, and participate in knowledge creation are accountable for their own positionality”
(Absolon and Willent, 2005, p. 97). Therefore, I will set out certain aspects of my life experiences that led me to this research question and laid the groundwork for my contribution to a new research ‘story.’
0.1 What Is My Story: How did I come to this research question?
Inward knowing arises from personal experience … attention to inward knowing is
not optional … all we know for sure is our own experience (Kovach, 2012, p.49).
My first professional work after law school was working for Native Counselling Services of Alberta where I was hired to teach court workers—a life-changing experience! There I met two work colleagues—Lenda Fisher and Austin Tootoosis—who both became my mentors in this ‘foreign land’ within my own country. During this time, I first learned about Indian residential schools and began to see the devastating impact and ongoing harms colonial policies of assimilation had inflicted upon so many generations. This toll on Indigenous People was an ever-present reality in the workplace. While I developed very close and positive relationships with my fellow-educators, I was also introduced to the intense suffering of those who accessed the services of this non-profit agency. In my capacity as liaison for court workers I was confronted with the systemic inequities, poverty, involvement in the criminal justice system, imprisonment, family violence, apprehension of children and the ever-present spectre of suicide that were tragically evident as daily struggles for many within the community. I personally lost a good friend and work colleague and his death continues to haunt me to this day.
Following this work, I moved to British Columbia where my next formative experience was developing and delivering training as part of the Northern Family Law initiative for the
Legal Services Society of BC (Legal Aid). In this work, I had opportunities to travel to remote xviii
northern BC communities where I met many strong and dedicated Nisga’a women employed as paralegals in the Native Community Law Offices. During this time, I also volunteered with the
Indigenous (Aboriginal) Law Clinic when it first opened in Vancouver’s Downtown East-side— a ‘postal code’ which continues to be identified as Canada’s poorest neighbourhood. I took a two year leave from my legal aid employment as I was fortunate to be invited to be a Ministerial
Assistant for the Attorney General and Justice Minister, Ujjal Dosanjh, at the exact time when the provincial government negotiated and signed the first treaty in British Colombia in over 100 years—the Nisga’a treaty.
Following my work as Ministerial Assistant, I returned to Alberta because my father had died, and I was needed at home. I became directly involved with the history of Indian residential schools through my work as a Legislative Consultant with the Ministry of Education. At this time, the provincial government was served with a Freedom of Information request that required a search for all archived records of Indian residential schools’ attendees in the province. This request was made in anticipation of a class action lawsuit being launched on behalf of the
Survivors. A particularly harrowing experience was the day a close friend and work colleague who was on site compiling this ‘evidence,’ discovered the registration record of his mother as a student. I witnessed his shock and pain for his mother had never told him she attended an Indian residential school or had this traumatic experience.
While disclosure of documents was to become a key clause of the Settlement Agreement agreed to by both the Plaintiffs on behalf of Survivors and the Defendants including the federal government, legal action had to be commenced on behalf of the Indian Residential School Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) to ensure compliance. A good friend from law school was hired as TRC legal counsel to launch a court action when the federal government refused to xix
release several thousand records (documentary evidence) with respect to Indian residential school history (Falconers, 2015).
Another close friend was a Hearing Officer in the Independent Assessment Process established under the Settlement Agreement where Indian residential school Survivors shared their childhood experiences at these schools if they were claiming more than the “common experience” payment. She spoke of how traumatic these stories of abuse could be on both the one who shared as well as on those who listened and witnessed the testimony of past events. One image stays with me—a waste-paper basket that was always set in place, close to the person testifying, because their stories were often so ‘gut-wrenching’ that the Survivor often became violently ill—an uncontrolled reaction to the resurfacing of traumatic memories from the past.
Over the course of this research I shed many tears for the inhumanity and brutal treatment of young and vulnerable victims. Simply reading the stories of Survivors evokes a deep internal
‘unsettling’ so perhaps it is not surprising that the culmination of all of these experiences finally precipitated a conscious choice to commit to this research. In fact, there was at this precise moment, in the middle of the UBC bookstore, when I read the title: Unsettling the Settler Within
(Regan, 2010) and I resolved to make the TRC and its legacy the focal point of my research.
While my decision to embark on this research was likely based on several unconscious motivations, I consciously justified my choice as a desire to draw upon my academic interests and background in both law and education as well as my ongoing engagement with alternate dispute resolution (ADR) and restorative justice—principles upon which the TRC had been established. Another motivating factor was my long-held belief that it is a serious societal error not to include the study of law in the curriculum because students will ultimately be expected as citizens, and presumed as adults, to ‘know’ the law. So, this was a considerable challenge—how xx
to focus my strengths and academic interests as well as my considerable work experience and integrate all of these diverse aspects: the TRC legacy, education, law, and restorative justice?
The final piece of the puzzle fell into place when a friend in the Education Ministry of Ontario shared with me that the Council of Ministers of Education – Canada (CMEC) had just made a unanimous curriculum commitment to require the study of Indian residential school history across Canada in response to ongoing advocacy of the TRC. It was at this exact instance that my
Ph.D. journey began in earnest. I had found a way to ground my research as a case study based upon this unique moment in Canadian education.
However, the single most impactful event that occurred during the course of my studies was attending the TRC Public Hearing in Edmonton. All those present at this event were asked by the TRC to commit to being/becoming a witness to what they had seen and heard. I made a vow to accept a multi-faceted commitment: an obligation/burden/inheritance as a TRC witness.
My research became an important, albeit initial step in fulfilling this ‘call to witness’ where my response/ability is a life-long obligation and not simply a single or time-limited ‘one-off’ research decision.
Indian residential school history can be told in many ways and seen through different lens. I encourage you, as reader, to keep in mind how each of six rationales I have identified in the research provide a lens to engage with, and respond to, this story. Any lens creates a specific perspective or view. While a particular rationale might help to enhance the story by highlighting certain aspects, this lens might also carry biases that colour the view or add dimensions that skew the perspective. The benefit of considering all six rationales or lens is understanding how each lens is capable of enhancing but also of altering what is perceived. As certain aspects are brought
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to the forefront, others will be missed entirely. So, as you read, question what the particular lens
(rationale) causes you to focus on and what it might cause you to miss.
0.2 My ‘Call to Witness’ to the Traumatic Past
While I firmly believe the history of Indian residential schools in Canada is an important story which must be shared, I was concerned that without a dedicated and confident response on the part of teachers, the CMEC curriculum commitment would inevitably result in half-hearted educational efforts that ultimately failed to address the expectations raised by the TRC. As a teacher myself, I understood how demanding it would be to teach such difficult subject matter even if there was well-prepared curriculum content. I empathized with non-Indigenous teachers who would face the challenge of both learning about and teaching a history of Indian residential schools. A further complicating factor was the requirement to introduce the study of what I have termed the ‘traumatic past,’ or difficult knowledge, in the classroom. Canadian and Indigenous narratives are deeply interwoven and complex, which I knew from my own life-long learning journey, and the more I thought about our national curriculum commitment, I kept coming back to a fundamental question: Why does one study the traumatic past? What is the value or worth of such study? And can such study be considered for inclusion within the curriculum as knowledge of most worth? The culmination of my thought processes and these queries led to the initial research question: Why do we study the traumatic past? What is essential to understand is that this entire research endeavour is only one small step in an ongoing, lengthy, and yet essential journey of reconciliation.
The legacy of Indian residential schools and settler colonialism is complex, tragic and multi-layered and requires active engagement in order to address the ongoing harms of colonialism as part of reconciliation efforts: xxii
This abuse of the education system has had lasting impacts on many Indigenous
people in Canada today … [harms] directly linked to the legacy of a racist and
assimilationist education system that has been operating in Canada for over 100 years
… [and] Sinclair reminded the audience that “education is the means by which we
will be able to fix this … education has gotten us into this mess, and education will
get us out (Anderson, 2016, paras 4, 10).
This research is, in part, my response to, and continuing engagement with, the roots of systemic inequity and societal violence. This was an important choice—to engage in self-education in this area. Such education is an intentional responsibility to learn because “systemic violence is complex and multi-layered. One thing that cuts across layers is the disproportionate amount of labour that Black, Indigenous and people of color (BIPOC) bear when they are expected to teach other people about systemic colonial and racial violence” (Andreotti et.al., 2020, para 1). Of paramount importance is the recognition that reconciliation efforts are the responsibility of non-
Indigenous people. As has been emphasized repeatedly by the former TRC Chair (2009-2015), the Honourable Senator (Justice) Murray Sinclair, “reconciliation is not an ‘Aboriginal problem,’ it is a Canadian problem. It involves all of us” (Sinclair, 2015, n.p.).
My commitment to reconciliation was made at the Edmonton TRC Public Hearing and I am determined to follow through on this pledge and to respond by being a witness and sharing what I have heard, experienced and understood. All those who attended the TRC public events were encouraged to become ‘story keepers’ and, in the Indigenous understanding of the role, to be ‘witnesses’ who could then reach out to ALL Canadians offering the invitation to similarly become part of a collective of individuals who chose to hear and learn, to act as witnesses themselves, and to become actively engaged in reconciliation. xxiii
Throughout this journey I have been inspired by the leadership and guidance of Senator
Sinclair who is Ojibway and a Fourth Degree Midewiwin member of the Three Fires Society
(traditional Ojibway Medicine Society) and whose Indigenous given name is Mizanay Gheezhik, meaning the “One Who Speaks of Pictures in the Sky.” Sinclair is a consummate educator who tirelessly promotes education as vital to reconciliation based on his belief that schools have a key role in confronting racism. And while citizenship is admittedly fraught with complexity as a concept, Sinclair was able to effectively ground TRC processes on the foundation that what was essential was ensuring citizens understood the work of the TRC and embraced the change, for it is the people collectively, and not the government, who will make reconciliation happen (CBC,
2020).
Sinclair is a First Nations lawyer who was appointed in 1988 as the first Indigenous judge in the province of Manitoba where he served on the Bench until appointed as TRC Chair in 2009.
His abiding belief in the power of education and his legal background resonated deeply with me.
Whenever I felt overwhelmed by this research or when feelings of complicity or despair blocked my ability to move forward, I was invariably inspired by his wisdom. I chose not to undertake this research project ‘out of guilt’ for such feelings are debilitating and is often a barrier to moving forward towards reconciliation which requires hard work and sustained, active engagement, because: “Reconciliation is about atonement. It's about making amends. It's about apology. It's about recognizing responsibility. It's about accounting for what has gone on. But ultimately, it's about commitment to maintaining that mutually respectful relationship throughout, recognizing that, even when you establish it, there will be challenges to it” (Sinclair in Government of Canada, 2017, para 1). Without question, reconciliation is incredibly complex.
xxiv
At the completion of my thesis I was left with no misguided belief I would find absolution simply by engaging in this research process. While not motivated by guilt, I still had to acknowledge the historic and contemporary context in Canada which raises serious concerns over the legitimacy of any ‘settler’ efforts to repair harms or attempt to improve relationships based on an Indigenous philosophical approach of ‘living in a good way.’ Reconciliation is akin to climbing a mountain, according to Sinclair (CBC, 2020), for it is a challenging, onerous, and a long-term endeavour that requires collaboration, hard work, humility and dedication. My own personal commitment began by deepening my learning and after attending a TRC Public event I was further motivated by a strong moral obligation to ‘witness’ and tell my understanding of this
Canadian story—a tragic legacy and destructive national inheritance stemming directly back to colonial policies that continue to permeate society today. To address current harms arising from the traumatic past and to move forward in a different direction from the historic record of broken promises requires ALL Canadians to truly ‘hear’ the story of Indian residential schools, to make their own choice to witness and finally to choose to take steps toward reconciliation. Without question, Indian residential schools are "one of the darkest, most troubling chapters in our collective history” (Sinclair, CBC Radio, 2015, n.p.). Senator Sinclair continues to actively encourage people to become involved in dismantling systemic racism and to take steps toward reconciliation for such efforts require wide-spread and sustained engagement and to this end education is always recognized as a key partner in this change: “Reconciliation is not a spectator sport. You have to become involved. You have to be engaged. And people have not yet embraced that idea” (CBC, 2020, para 19).
The many challenges I faced during my studies are reflective of the experiences shared by many non-Indigenous teachers where their feelings of fear and uncertainty can become xxv
overwhelming responses when they are required to engage in the study of the traumatic past, particularly the study of Indian residential school history:
Educators want to do the right thing, but they are afraid of making the problem
worse, of being guilty of cultural appropriation, of offending or misinforming. Many
teachers have come from educational backgrounds that offered little in the way of
Indigenous education content and have not been challenged to think about power and
privilege or how various kinds of privilege intersect. They are now called to include
Indigenous perspectives that they didn’t have the opportunity to learn themselves,
which presents an obvious challenge. As educators still learning (as we all are), we
empathize with feelings of anxiety and inadequacy (Morcom and Freeman, 2019,
paras 9-10).
I engaged in this study to offer preliminary background and perhaps guidance, knowing that educators in day to day practice do not generally have the luxury of time to devote to a concentrated study of this nature. This research ultimately offers a practical basis for considering the approach taken (or lens adopted) within the mandated curriculum. My research centers on the history of Indian residential schools and the requirement to teach this difficult knowledge and so
I begin my journey of discovery with the question: Why do we study the traumatic past? George
Erasmus, speaking at the commencement of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal People
(RCAP), stated that, “the roots of injustice lie in history and it is there where the key to the regeneration of Aboriginal society and a new and better relationship with the rest of Canada can be found” (Erasmus in Dion, 2009, at p.3). Exploring the reasons for educators to engage with the traumatic past in response to the research question initiates a necessary learning journey. In
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fact, it is a life-long journey that is now required not only of educators but is equally essential for all Canadians.
0.3 Formation of the Research Question – Why?
‘Why’ questions are now considered dated—an anachronistic endeavour in post-modern times—a resurrection of an Enlightenment quest for knowledge. ‘Why? questions are perceived as a search for finality, the pursuit of definitive answers paired with a drive to establish and maintain control over not only how something is discovered but also what might be considered
‘legitimate’ knowledge. In contrast to this approach, I asked ‘Why?’ in a very different spirit of enquiry. This re/search began based on my belief that definitive answers can never be found.
Rather, I posed this question as a childlike enquiry, akin to a two-year old who repetitively asks
‘Why?’ to discover more about the mysteries of life and one’s own place within these mysteries.
This research query initiated a search for further knowledge that I was confident would lead to further questions … and to further searching … and to a lifetime learning journey.
Some might ask, if definitive answers can never be found then what is the purpose of asking a ‘Why?’ question in the first place? First, a significant number of people believe that past trauma of either an individual, or a nation, should not be buried or sublimated but opened up to the light of personal introspection with the harms arising from such traumatic events being shared with others. Such introspection and sharing offers no assurance that past divisions and current harms will be healed by such actions. However, the cleaning of a wound offers an analogy to the potential curative powers of exposing an injury and there are recognized benefits to ‘air’ a wound in order to encourage healing.
A second motivation was to further explore a broad underlying assumption: that examining personal and national trauma and sharing the harms is beneficial. As far as I could xxvii
ascertain, this premise has never been explored in any depth. Certainly, in respect to what I have termed the traumatic past there has been no clear articulation which ever attempted to separate the various strands of justifications given to engage in such study. Therefore, a further explanation for this research question is that it provides a way to focus attention upon, and consider, the underlying rationales which have been given for the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum. After a thorough review of the literature, it was apparent this was an understudied area for I was unable to discover any previous attempt to untangle the reasons given for engaging in such study. Hence, in exploring underlying assumptions, I created six groupings of reasons or what I called rationales for such study. Each of the six rationales group similarities that I discovered in underlying justifications found in the literature. Often the reasons were not clearly articulated and frequently there was an intermixing so that untangling the underlying assumptions became the first step. Once these were identified then these reasons could be separated into distinct rationale making further exploratory study possible.
The traumatic past is a relatively new area of study. The inclusion of Holocaust studies in the curriculum, which arose for the first time in the USA in the 1970’s initiated an area known as genocide studies which if included in the curriculum is offered as optional. Mandating the study of the traumatic in Canada by requiring the inclusion of the history of Indian residential school history in the curriculum—is certainly rare if not unique. Unfortunately, several provincial governments have now postponed (some indefinitely) the implementation of this hitherto unanimous curriculum commitment. However at the start of my research all of the Ministers of
Education across the nation had agreed to include this history, this traumatic past, in the curriculum.
xxviii
The six rationales I identify can be approached in many ways. For example, these rationales can be viewed as six facets of a jewel that sheds light on aspects of the traumatic past or as six pathways through an often treacherous and heartbreaking landscape. Perhaps one of the most helpful metaphors is to perceive these six groupings as lens through which to study the traumatic past. Metaphors offer images which may help in the visualization of the varied ways to approach and engage with the traumatic past. I have now come to appreciate that for me, what began as my purpose—asking the ‘Why?’ question—ultimately became a map of my journey. I hope that my efforts to ‘way-find’ and to explore and chart my journey as articulated through the six rationales or lens may be of value to others who explore this challenging territory.
Therefore, what I have written becomes both a record of and a guide to my journey—my story—within this complex and troubling field of study. My six rationales may provide guidance and help to identify landmarks as well as challenges in the terrain for others as they explore their
‘inheritance’ of the nation’s traumatic past. I look forward to hearing from those who continue this ‘curriculum conversation,’ and share their explorations, recognizing that my efforts represent only a beginning, an initial foray, and a very individualized and personal response to the most human of all questions: “Why?”
0.4 Métissage: A Narrative of Interwoven Voices and an Invitation
Métissage is an essential aspect of the research approach which is evident in my choice to weave voices within a research frame. Based on the etymological or root meaning of métissage which harkens back to ‘a mixing’ or a mixture, it was an appropriate word to use given that it harkens back to both Grecian (Western European) origins as well as having roots within the
Canadian context by having acquired a unique Indigenous meaning. Yet, métissage in my research—where individual voices are interwoven through the use of direct quotations without xxix
directly inserting my own story—is a distinct departure from the current academic usage and understanding of métissage in Canadian curriculum studies. Therefore further explanation is required to both acknowledge the current practice of métissage as articulated by curriculum scholars as well as to justify an expanded use of the term based on both the roots and provenance of the word, the initial use of this term outside of curriculum studies as well as highlighting the potential application or use beyond the current restrictions in meaning which requires research practices to be wedded to autobiography and life studies.
While Metis was a Greek goddess, the origins of the word métissage are French. The earliest English usage recorded is in the Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute in the late
19th Century (Oxford Dictionary, n.d.) where métissage was used to denote miscegenation or interbreeding. This accords with early French usage in Quebec society, where ‘métis’, meaning the mixing of French and Indigenous ancestry, was contrasted with individuals who were said to be pure laine or “pure wool” due to their only having French ancestry. Essentially, from the
1700’s onward, this word was used to distinguish the racial “Other” in early Canadien society and to recognize and set apart those who, while born in Canada, could claim the ‘distinction’ of being able to trace their origins back to ancestry who were born in France.
In recent years (mid-20th century) efforts have been made to rehabilitate the concept of métissage, using it as a term to reflect the more positive aspects of inter-weaving diversity in
Canadian society. Métissage, was defined in the Canadian context by curriculum studies scholars to mean a mixing and a rapprochement of differences: race, culture, class, gender, geography, and language (Chambers, Hasebe-Ludt, Donald, Hurren, Leggo and Oberg, 2009). These authors drew upon and extended earlier use of the word by Françoise Lionnet (1989), who wrote in a series aimed at furthering international feminist discourse. Her use of the term highlights how xxx
individuals often have to “survive (and write) in the interval between different cultures and languages” (Lionnet, 1989, 1). The emphasis in Lionnet’s usage of this term was on the intermixing of European languages and concepts with local dialects and understandings in order to create a third space which was achieved by adopting a “both/and” approach to language. Such a usage was reflected in the works of various authors in the series Lionnet edited, who variously identified their works as creolization, métissage or mestizo, with all sharing an equivalency and yet each comprised of a unique origin story and identity based upon the ‘mixture’ of unique languages and cultures.
Métissage was here identified as a praxis, which allowed for greater ‘fluidity and flexibility’ in order to break free from the “prison house of language” and the “more classical modes of expression, a vision of the world as circumscribed by European modes of discourse”
(Lionnet, 1989, 1-2). My research approach has a direct link to such an identified purpose and aims of métissage described as: “initiating a genuine dialogue with the dominant discourses” in order to transform these discourses through “favouring exchange rather than provoking conflict”
(Lionnet, 1989, p.3). This has also been of utmost importance to me as I attempted to interweave
‘original voices’ into a ‘complicated conversation.’
In contrast, what is called literary métissage incorporates a life writing focus has become the common approach of Canadian curriculum studies scholars. In their research endeavour, writers of diverse backgrounds intermix their autobiographical stories—the personal and poetic—into braided narratives to compare and contrast life experiences, often with an aim of exploring difference. While this powerful expression of personal narratives has a clear educative purposes, it is only one interpretation of, as well as arguably already an extension of, the concept of métissage as explored by Lionnet (1989). In Life Writing and Literary Métissage as an Ethos xxxi
for Our Times (Hasebe-Ludt, Chambers and Leggo, 2009) a particular approach to métissage is set out providing a way to research, teach and live ethically through the weaving of life writings
(autobiographical texts), often in collaboration with others, in the exploration of identified themes. According to Janet Miller, this “offers the field of curriculum studies, in particular, and the field of education, in general, an innovative methodology” (Miller in Hasebe-Ludt, Chambers and Leggo, 2009, back cover). What is crucial to understand is that as originally conceived, métissage was a clear stance against a rigidity of vision as circumscribed by European modes of discourse. What was advocated as necessary in response was fluidity of engagement with parole vivre or ‘living logos,’ allowing those who participate in the conversation to influence each other in a cross-cultural exchange or relationship. In this sense as well, métissage is vital to my research where I endeavour to braid Indigenous and non-Indigenous sources, drawing upon the importance of orality and artistic expression, as well as upon traditional and academic writing, without according privilege to any one voice. Métissage in this manner offers a process for meeting the academic rigours and requirements of my particular research while simultaneously holding space open for a curriculum conversation to occur which engages with non-traditional, cross cultural, as well as inter- and intra-disciplinary discourse. I note that Edouard Glissant (in
Lionnet, 1989, p.4) speaks of creolization (métissage) as establishing a cross-cultural relationship through the braiding of cultural forms which revalorizes oral traditions and re-evaluates Western concepts in the recovery of (traumatic) histories. In this sense, métissage offers an exemplar for my research by emphasizing the importance of oral traces of the past and the holding open of space for dialogue:
[Métissage] is not a territory staked out by exclusionary practices. Rather, it
functions as a sheltering site, one that can nurture our differences without xxxii
encouraging us within facile oppositional practices or sterile denunciations and
disavowals … we have to articulate new visions of ourselves, new concepts that
allow us to think otherwise … Métissage is such a concept and a practice (Lionnet,
1989, pp. 5-6).
Thus, the origin of métissage as a concept and practice in research includes, and is arguably premised upon, the interdisciplinary nature of inquiry. Furthermore, métissage allows for the analysis of texts that ‘fly in the face of scholarly conventions’ so that the aims of métissage, as originally articulated by Lionnet (1989), can apply equally to my own research endeavours, particularly in her statement as to the practice of métissage which enables:
renewed connections to the past [which] can emancipate us, provided they are used
to elaborate empowering myths for living in the present and for affirming our belief
in the future … the purpose of my work is to put into practice my belief in the
interconnectedness of the various traditions … [where] to establish non-hierarchical
connections is to encourage lateral relations: instead of living within the bonds
created by a linear view of history and society, we become free to interact on an
equal footing with all the traditions that determine our present predicament. On a
textual level, we can choose authors across time and space and read them together for
new insights … For me métissage is a praxis … a form of bricolage in the sense used
by Claude Lévi-Strauss … it brings together biology and history, anthropology and
philosophy, linguistics and literature. Above all, it is a reading practice that allows
me to bring out the inter-referential nature of a particular set of texts, which I believe
to be of fundamental importance for the understanding of many postcolonial cultures
(Lionnet, 1989, pp.7-8). xxxiii
There are, of course, considerable areas of accord between what Lionnet (1989) advocates and the practices of Hasebe-Lubt, Chambers and Leggo who offer a version of métissage based upon their own praxis in the juxtaposition of stories to create new stories and counter-narratives to the grand narratives of our time where: “métissage offers a rapprochement between alternative and mainstream curriculum discourses and seeks a genuine exchange among writers, and between writers and their various audiences” (Hasebe-Lubt, Chambers and Leggo, 2009, p. 9). My research similarly uses métissage as a guiding research sensibility, or praxis, capturing the essence of braiding by weaving together diverse voices—the ‘messy’ threads of relatedness.
However, I readily admit that my usage of métissage extends an approach previously adopted within curriculum inquiry for I perceive no necessity to forefront life writing nor any requirement to make the comparison of autobiographical texts as the central framework.
I also drew inspiration from the importance of ethical relationality and the juxtaposition of diverse texts which retain their original voice or form, although I did not utilize the practices focused on place and artifact that are an intrinsic part of Indigenous métissage (Donald, 2012).
There is much value in the articulation of Indigenous métissage particularly the need to explore our different histories and experiences while simultaneously recognizing that we are emmeshed in relationships to each other and must therefore seek to understand in order to live together.
What is particularly powerful in this approach is that it eschews Homi Bhabha’s concept of hybridity, which is abstract in its universality, to favour decolonizing theories and strategies grounded here—in this time and place—which are unique to Canada (Donald, 2012, 539). This is justified by the need for Indigenous/non-Indigenous relationality in this country to be the centre focus: “We need an Indigenous form of métissage that encourages theorists to pay closer attention to the particular character of colonial discourses in specific Canadian contexts. Such a xxxiv
theory needs to be able to comprehend and respect the indigenous quality and character of instances of cultural interaction” (Donald, 2012, 541). The emphasis upon place-based research and the fundamental importance of relationships between the people here is essential for there is
“a long history of looking elsewhere for sources of inspiration … [and we need] to get people to look at the places where they live as we continue to try to make sense of this difficult past and what it means for us today” (Donald, 2018, at 54 min). In my research, which sought to explore the very different histories and contexts which exist within Canada’s traumatic past, I aimed to follow the purpose (or spirit) if not the practice of Indigenous métissage by supporting “the emergence of a decolonizing research sensibility that provides a way to hold together the ambiguous, layered, complex, and conflictual character of Aboriginal and Canadian relations without the need to deny, assimilate, hybridize, or conclude” (Donald, 2012, 536). To this end, I sought through my own use of métissage, in the inclusion of many voices and the juxtaposition of texts to attend to and embody the many challenges and ambiguities inherent in such study.
Similar to all uses of métissage, my research was exploratory in nature, drawing upon the ‘plurality of potentialities’ and ‘affirmation of differences.’ Such practice, may, according to
Nancy Morejón allow for the creation of a new metaphoric hybrid of culture which is unique although drawn from and rooted in the preceding cultures that gave it birth “for no single element superimposes itself on another; on the contrary, each one changes into the other so that both can be transformed into a third” (Morejón, 1982 in Lionnet, 1989, pp. 15-16). Or, as Donald advocates, métissage within the Canadian context may be better served if each braid, while woven together, remains fundamentally distinct—not a hybrid but a unique story—that requires relationality through the weaving allowing for a “provocative juxtaposition of Aboriginal and
Canadian standpoints to bring about a shift in the critical consciousness of writer and reader, xxxv
storyteller and lister … to facilitate meaningful reconstruction through sustained engagements that traverse perceived civilizational divides” (Donald, 2012, 549). What is foundational to all of these approaches to métissage, including my own, is the openness to engaging in an ethical relationship with the ‘Other,’ which creates the possibility of transformation.
For this reason, I purposefully kept my research exploratory, rather than explanatory, in order to hold open the space for a multiplicity of voices to engage. While I have drawn upon numerous perspectives, I remain cognizant of the impossibility of being an objective observer in one’s own research. My expression of self and my ‘call to witness’ is always/already evident in all aspects of this study including the establishment of the framework, the connections identified in subject matter because both become, metaphorically, a stringing of the ‘research loom’ which sets not only the parameters through the warp and the weft of horizontality and verticality but also the underlying patterns, for I am always grounded in my own historic and contemporary realities and within my own personal life experiences and perspectives. My voice, the “I am,” is evident in the purposeful selection of voices which are interwoven like threads into a complex research tapestry. While it seems that I have chosen to often stand apart from these interactions,
“I” am of course always present in each of my research choices—in establishing a framework for the discussion, in the braiding together of voices and in threading quotations into, and through, the complicated conversation that is curriculum.
Therefore, to further centre myself and take up additional ‘space’ did not, in my mind, meet the need of ‘holding space’ for a more open conversation to take place. Nor did I believe that inserting my own story into the commentary would be particularly helpful in elucidating the voices of those chosen, for their words speak for themselves. Of utmost importance to me was that you, the reader, be encouraged to come to your own conclusions—not based on what I xxxvi
profess or have experienced—but that through this presentation of a multi-layered tapestry of voices you would be encouraged to engage further, draw upon your own lived experiences and wisdom traditions and then to join your voice into this vital conversation concerning the study of the traumatic past and the history of Indian residential schools. In the spirit of métissage, every
“reader should feel absolutely free to let her/himself be guided by the threads that seem most compelling and inspiring, as I have done in my own reading of the texts” (Lionnet, 1989, p.27).
Thank-you Françoise Lionnet, I couldn’t have said this better myself! Enjoy, in the spirit that actively engaging in conversation through reading and responding is a threading, a mix, a métissage, that is the basis for creating a new (research) story!
AN INVITATION: In honour of the origin story of Metis, a daughter of the Titans, a
Trickster who could transform her form, a goddess of both practical knowledge and esoteric wisdom, please continue the métissage and add to the threads of conversation by incorporating your own thoughts to this ‘complicated conversation’ that is curriculum …
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Chapter 1: Introduction
The very hope for a just and compassionate future lies, at least in part, in working
through the traumatic catastrophes we have inherited (Simon, et. al., 2000, p. 6).
Anishinabek tradition … looks beyond its own cultural horizons and points
outside of itself to answer questions that lie in the present and future. Indigenous
stories are strongest when their authenticity relies on how well they meet the
challenges of the contemporary era (Borrows, 2010b, p. 70).
The unanimous commitment of the Council of Education Ministers, Canada (CMEC) in
July 2014, to include the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum across the country, requires the study of the ‘traumatic past’. This national commitment will dramatically alter education in Canada, yet an exploration of the justifications for including such study, of what has been termed ‘difficult knowledge,’ reveals a variety of, and often conflicting, rationales. To understand the potential impact of this curriculum decision it is necessary to explore the foundational question: Why study the traumatic past?
Six rationale for the study of the traumatic past were identified and each rationale offers a focal point to consider the question: What might the national mandate to include a history of
Indian residential schools in the curriculum mean in the complicated conversation that is
Canadian curriculum studies? I explore each of the six rationale by drawing upon academic literature in the field of curriculum studies, recent scholarship of Indigenous writers, as well as legal commentary on Canadian case law. This research question, itself, has roots in the world’s reaction to genocide following World War II (WWII). References to Holocaust education are 38
therefore germane because these educators were the first to address the study of the traumatic past. Indigenous writings, particularly those relating to education are referenced throughout to enhance understanding of the historic trauma and to provide guidance for reconciliation efforts.
Finally, the exploration of the Canadian context, with particular emphasis on the law, identifies the ongoing challenges in a country which has committed to addressing the harms arising from the traumatic past. The legal framework also provides background to the establishment of the
Indian Residential Schools Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC) and the subsequent CMEC commitment to mandate the study of the history of Indian residential schools across Canada. Both of these developments—the TRC and CMEC curriculum mandate—were the original impetus that generated the research question and this study.
1.1 Legal Background
On September 17, 2007 the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement (Settlement
Agreement) came into effect. The Settlement Agreement, which resolved the largest class action law suit in Canada, was originally signed one year earlier in May 2006, by 70 parties. The
Defendants to the class action included the federal government of Canada who had established these schools and provided the funding as well as several religious organizations who actually operated the schools. The Plaintiffs were represented by the Assembly of First Nations and other legal and political representatives of adults who were the First Nations, Métis and Inuit children enrolled in these schools during the operation of this system (1879 to 1996) in Canada. The
Settlement Agreement provided monetary payments in recognition of the systemic physical and sexual abuse of students at these schools as well as a number of additional components including the establishment of the TRC. An essential part of the TRC mandate was to: “Promote awareness
39
and public education of Canadians about the IRS [Indian residential school] system and its impacts” (TRC Terms of Reference 1(d), 2008).
Prior to the public sessions held by the TRC, the history of the Indian residential school system was largely unknown by the vast majority of Canadians. This education system, imposed by the government upon vulnerable children and their families, had previously been identified as
‘an act of profound cruelty’ in the 1996 Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Persons
(RCAP). The RCAP Report had “recommended a public inquiry to investigate the operation of the system and its impact ‘on individuals and families across several generations, on communities, and on Aboriginal society as a whole’” (RCAP, 1, 13, Note 4 in Moran, 2014, p.
533). However, no action was taken by the federal government in response to this RCAP recommendation. Due to what might be termed ‘the perfect legal storm,’ arising out of a series of changes to the law and legal procedure in recent decades, successful law suits were launched by a number of Indian residential school attendees (Survivors). Canadian courts accepted evidence of the grievous physical and sexual abuse experienced by Survivors in a number of ground- breaking cases (Blackwater v. Plint; Christensen v. Roman Catholic Archbishop of Quebec;
Cloud v. Canada etc.). The courts also recognized the Plaintiff’s right to claim substantial compensation by holding both the government and churches responsible. Once these initial cases were successful, and had resulted in significant monetary claims being paid out to claimants, a larger class action was initiated which consolidated Survivor’s claims (Baxter et. al. v. Canada
(Attorney General)). When the Baxter decision was issued in 2006, it was quickly realized that the resulting class action law suit would place an immense burden on the legal system and require several years of dedicated court time. In addition to the substantial cost to government in mounting a legal defence and the potential liability of successful claims, there was also a genuine 40
fear these cases would completely overwhelm the justice system. The class action lawsuit also threatened bankruptcy of several religious institutions. At this point Survivors were also aging and many were unable, or unwilling, to contend with the physical, emotional, and psychological challenges of traditional court processes. All parties to the class action were therefore motivated to resolve the claims in a process that was less formal, adversarial, and court focused. In this context, after much negotiation, and after ‘trying out’ a number of alternate ways of resolving individual claims (Regan, 2011), the Settlement Agreement was signed. Reaching this resolution was historic in nature, as:
It aimed not just to settle the massive volume of litigation that the Indian
Residential Schools legacy had suddenly generated in the late 1990’s and early
2000’s but also to achieve a ‘fair, comprehensive and lasting resolution’ to the
grievous large-scale historic wrongdoing … [and] in order to achieve this the
IRSSA [Settlement Agreement] established a number of innovative remedies and
institutions. (Moran, 2014, p. 529)
The Settlement Agreement resolved the largest class action law suit in Canadian history and resulted in a multi-billion dollar payout. However, the Settlement Agreement was noteworthy for more than the monetary precedent set in Canada. In world terms, this was the first time a truth and reconciliation commission had ever been established in a stable, constitutional democracy— in a country where there had not been a regime change prior to the establishment of the commission and where the government in power had a direct and continuous connection to the political body that caused the harm. Second, this was also the first time a truth and reconciliation process had been established where all of the victims were children when the harms occurred.
According to Mayo Moran, “it represents the most ambitious effort by a sitting government 41
anywhere in the world to comprehensively respond to widespread historic injustice” (Moran,
2014, pp. 529-530).
While the Settlement Agreement and resulting establishment of the TRC were understood as necessary to address existing (and potential) law suits, there was no immediate appreciation that this ‘mere’ legal remedy would result in any change to Canadian society generally or significantly impact the education system in particular. In fact, many were skeptical it would have any impact whatsoever beyond costing the taxpayer a significant amount of money. It would not have been surprising if the TRC had simply became another instance of a haphazard response to the ‘Indian problem’ as it had been termed by Duncan Campbell Scott (Deputy
Superintendent of the Department of Indian Affairs, 1913-1932) who advocated a policy of assimilation and played a pivotal role in expanding the Indian residential school system). Fear that the TRC would not result in any significant alteration of government policy or societal change was most pronounced when the first TRC Chair Larry LaForme resigned and the TRC was temporarily derailed (CBC, 2008). Early public hearings of the TRC were also critically reviewed by Ronald Niezen (2013) and his team of student observers. Niezen initial assessment concluded that as the TRC process lacked public input and denied a balanced presentation of the
‘facts’ any potential value of the TRC hearings was seriously undermined (Niezen, 2013). Yet, the TRC, once the new Chair Justice Murray Sinclair was appointed in June, 2009, began to generate significant mainstream notice and increased media attention. Public events drew participants from a variety of First Nations, Métis and Inuit communities, as well as members of churches (often signatories to the Settlement Agreement), school children and university students who were invited to attend these events, along with the more prominent and invited Honorary
Witnesses. Members of the general public became ‘witnesses’ to this national happening as well, 42
either by attending in-person at regional events or through the extensive media coverage. Under the leadership of Justice Sinclair, the role of the TRC was re-envisioned as largely educational and no opportunity was missed to reach out to the education community. Sinclair believed firmly that “Education has gotten us into this mess and education will get us out” (Sinclair in Anderson,
2016, para 10). As a result, the TRC was active in promoting their message through meetings with top educators in Canada, as well as inviting school children across the country to public hearings. The TRC used this outreach as a highly effective stratagem that created a watershed moment in the history of Canadian curriculum. Specifically, the TRC, throughout their mandate, sought meetings with CMEC, which is comprised of the top political representatives of education from the ten provinces and three territories. These meetings between the TRC and CMEC led to the unanimous agreement of CMEC and national commitment to include the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum (CMEC, 2013). This decision was declared essential, so that future generations could avoid the errors of the past and Canadians could move forward on the path to reconciliation. To fully appreciate the importance of this decision, it is vital to understand the context where national events staged by the TRC brought intense media and public pressure on politicians. This pressure provided the necessary impetus to overcome the lack of political will and previous reluctance to move forward. Concrete action was proposed by the TRC and this precipitated an arguably unique national curriculum commitment which would require the teaching of what has been identified in the education literature as ‘difficult knowledge’
(Britzman, 1998).
1.2 CMEC Commitment to Difficult Knowledge
Difficult knowledge is described as that which makes us uncomfortable to speak about, where there might not be a straight-forward, easy, pre-conceived vocabulary (Pitt & Britzman, 43
2003). For reasons that will be explored, difficult knowledge, or what I have termed in this context—‘the study of the traumatic past’, raises unique challenges in education. In developing curriculum in response to the CMEC commitment it is very likely that the rationale identified for, or by, teachers to justify such study will be set out as ‘objectives’ that are expected to be achieved, using the traditional language of the Basic Principles of Curriculum, (Tyler, 1949).
Parallels can be drawn to the study of the traumatic past in other areas, most notably Holocaust education, where identifying ‘educational objectives’ has presented significant challenges.
Currently there are limited educational or curriculum antecedents to assess this CMEC mandate in terms of determining appropriate aims or expectations of learning outcomes. In the future, studies will be conducted respecting curricula adopted in each province in response to the
CMEC mandate. Such research will likely include qualitative studies investigating the experience of educators who teach the history of Indian residential schools as well as the reactions of their students. However, at this early stage, the “Why” question respecting the rationales for teaching the traumatic past and difficult knowledge must first be identified and investigated. This will include an exploration of the philosophical grounding, curriculum antecedents, contextual circumstances, and perspectives for such study. At the outset, there is evidence of at least two expectations or rationales that can be gleaned from the announcement of the CMEC curriculum commitment. The messaging of a CMEC news release clearly identifies the need to promote mutual understanding by highlighting how the ongoing impacts of the residential school system on Indigenous People, and Canada as a whole, continue to today thus justifying the need:
[To] address the painful legacy of residential schools by ensuring that curriculum
in all provincial and territorial school systems will allow students to gain an 44
understanding of how residential schools affected Aboriginal children, families,
and communities and, ultimately, the country as a whole (CMEC, 2013, para 3).
Later in this press release the reasons CMEC gives for their curriculum resolution place a greater emphasis on historical understanding, and filling in the gaps, in addition to what could be termed
‘social emotional learning.’ CMEC also stresses how acquiring a better understanding of the traumatic past connects to a better outlook for Canadian society as a whole:
It is no longer acceptable for Canadians to complete their formal education
unaware of this dark chapter in our country's history,’ said the Honourable Eva
Aariak, Premier and Minister of Education for Nunavut. ‘Learning about the
history of residential schools can contribute to the collective healing process and
strengthen the fabric of communities across the country.’ (CMEC, 2013, para 4)
Finally, the importance of reconciliation as a further rationale can be drawn from the CMEC messaging for the inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum.
Reconciliation is also the quintessential message of the TRC Final Report (2015) which includes the 94 Calls to Action (TRC Final Report v6, 2015, pp. 223-241) including seven under the heading of Education (TRC Calls to Action, 2015, #6-12) and four that are categorized as
Education for Reconciliation (TRC Calls to Action, 2015, #62-65).
1.3 Curriculum: The Complicated Conversation
What knowledge is of most worth? Ultimately any rationale that is identified for curriculum is connected to this underlying query. The commitment to include the history of
Indian residential schools in the curriculum raises this canonical question which always, ultimately guides curriculum studies. Often the underlying response to this question is never clearly articulated or may remain an unconscious motivation. Yet asking this question: What 45
knowledge if of most worth? is, according to William Pinar, both “a call to arms as well as a call to contemplation; it is a call to complicated conversation” (Pinar, 2007, p. xix). Whether or not this question is verbalized, it is the underlying enquiry that ferments such strong emotions about education and makes decisions relating to school curriculum so highly contentious.
Curriculum is ultimately created and shaped according to competing beliefs, ideas, values, attitudes, learning theories and philosophies. While all curriculum is in this sense contentious, the study of national history, particularly the inclusion of a nation’s shadow side, is one of the most contested subject areas. Such curriculum debates often reflect a sharp divide in society as to whether or not the traumatic past should be taught at all. Articulating aims for including curriculum about a nation’s past can therefore be extremely divisive and inevitably the rationales identified will reflect the ideals and political will of the time. For example, in the
1990’s, disagreements as to what to include in the ‘national story’ generated what was termed
“history wars” in many places in the world (Parkes, 2011). In the United States the divisions were so deep it was called a ‘battlefield’ (Nash, Crabtree & Dunn, 1996). While in Canada the struggle was more muted, there was no less controversy (Granatstein, 1998; McManus, 2016).
Ultimately, the question of ‘what’ of a nation’s history will be included in the curriculum can have serious ramifications in both the public and political realm. The reason for such pronounced schisms over what to include in the curriculum, is the underlying belief that what is said about the past should be defined by, and will in turn define, the national character of a country. As collective memory of the citizenry is often perceived of as the basis of a unifying national narrative, history curriculum in whatever guise it is taught (social studies; history; citizenship education, etc.) is seen as the primary transmitter of the self-image of the nation. Of course, this premise itself is contestable as there are those who challenge whether national myth-making 46
should be the foundational aim of history education or any other curriculum content. In any case, even if it is determined that a national story is arguably essential, it needs to be a more nuanced recounting of history which uncovers the complexity of issues and voices. This argument has risen to a much greater prominence in recent years. The decision whether to privilege national myth-making as opposed to focusing on a diversity of voices is an ongoing debate as these two aspirations are often seen to be at odds. Not only is there no agreement as to which approach should predominate, a challenge has been raised that neither adequately addresses the complexity of a nation or reflect an accurate recounting of a nation’s past (Stephanie, 2017).
So what does the TRC, and the resulting CMEC commitment to include the history of the traumatic past in education, mean for the development of curriculum in Canada? Clearly, there is an expectation of a significant change to Canadian identity as a result, although this message is often conflicted. For example, after considerable political pressure, in 2008, Prime Minister
Harper made an apology in the House of Commons where he concluded with the statement:
“There is no place in Canada for the attitudes that inspired the Indian Residential Schools system to ever prevail again” (CBC, 2008, para 27). Yet, within less than a year, Prime Minister Harper declared on September 25, 2009 at a G-20 meeting that Canada has “no history of colonialism”
(Ljunggren, 2009, np). As the attitudes that inspired the creation of the Indian residential school system were inherently colonial in nature, Harper’s later denial was either completely misinformed or entirely disingenuous or perhaps both. The top officials’ misapprehension of the nation’s past is exceedingly problematic, although it serves as an excellent example of the historical amnesia that is frequently in evidence in Canada when it comes to Indigenous People
(Shrubb, 2014). How can teachers, ‘teach’ the history and impact of Indian residential schools
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(as required) and explore the construction of a Canadian historical narrative when there is such inconsistency of messaging even at the highest levels in society?
To provoke deeper reflection on the nation as a whole, according to Cynthia Chambers
(1999), there are vital questions that Canadians need to ask: Who are we really? And how did we get here? And perhaps most importantly, who do ‘we’, as Canadians, envision ourselves becoming? These questions, upon reflection, lead directly back to a consideration of the initial query: What knowledge is of most worth?—in a specific context—here, now, and in this place
(Canada). An exploration of what to teach as our history is, perhaps more than any other curriculum area, a prime opportunity to, “critically engage ones situatedness” (Pinar in Doll,
2017, p. 201). For in fostering a national story or stories, the curriculum presents and preserves the legacy from the past and passes along to the next generation the nations’ hopes for the future.
To return to crux of the study: ‘Why study of the traumatic past? One could add a further question: Why does such study merit inclusion in the curriculum? The responses to both queries offer an astounding tangle of justifications (rationales) which merit unravelling and further exploration. It is not entirely surprising that educators reference various justifications for the inclusion of such study. What is troubling, is that these rationales are oft repeated, articulated with convincing sincerity, yet ultimately little effort has been made to research their genesis or provenance, or challenge the authenticity of, or underlying assumptions behind, the various rationale provided. Therefore, it is apparent that there is great need for further investigation and this instance affords an ideal opportunity to focus on the reasons given in one exemplar—the curriculum commitment made by CMEC. This historic decision—mandating the history of
Indian residential schools—provides a singular and important moment in time to consider the reasons given for the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum. This is important research 48
as: “articulating the specificity of situation is prerequisite to working through its legacies” (Pinar,
2011, p. 163). An approach that is ideally suited to achieve this articulation is the ‘horizontality and verticality of curriculum studies’ (Pinar, 2007) which was chosen as the primary method.
Using this research approach, it is possible to first identify the frequently inter-woven rationale and then to deepen the curriculum conversation through an investigation of the intellectual lineage of the curriculum concepts associated with each of the rationale identified. As advocated by Pinar (2007) this offers a better understanding of how these ideas relate to, and articulate with clarity, a particular educational moment in time (Pinar, 2007). The methodological approach of
‘verticality and horizontality’ has significant potential to contribute to the curriculum conversation by using as a nexus event the CMEC commitment to include the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum. Given the multiple ways this curriculum commitment could be addressed, there is no question that many teachers faced with this mandated responsibility to teach the traumatic past may find they are ‘at a loss’ as to where to begin. Many will choose simply to use the pro-offered curriculum packages or what has been termed the ‘curriculum as planned,’ prepared by their Ministry of Education without clearly considering what this will mean in the classroom as ‘curriculum as lived’ (Aoki in Pinar, 2005). This is much more problematic when difficult knowledge is on offer as there is no ‘one size fits all approach’ and intentionality of educators is key. Curriculum inquiry is essential in bringing this educational moment, in the Canadian context, into focus using ‘verticality and horizontality’. While this research offers an initial review of rationale used to justify the study of the traumatic past, it effectively lays out the groundwork for future consideration. It is anticipated that this research will initiate or provoke further conversations and, by deepening the curriculum conversation, take the study of the traumatic past into new territories. 49
It is essential to understand why the reference to the ‘complicated conversation that is curriculum’ is so vital to this study. Informed by, and drawing upon, a variety of sources in the cross-disciplinary study of the curriculum effectively becomes a “key conveyance into the world” (Pinar, 2012, p. 30). Such study introduces a way to deepen understanding of current, complex, educational issues especially with respect to alterity. Both historical and contemporary discourses offer a complicated worldview that invites respect for diversity and ethical interaction especially in relationship with the ‘Other’ (Doll, 2017). According to Peter Grimmett, by introducing curriculum study through various provocative and sometimes conflicting discourses, people begin:
To see curriculum as having many diverse perspectives that connected with it and
shaped it. Hence the idea of curriculum as a complicated conversation was
introduced as a way of developing deep understanding of the complex issues that
teachers face in today’s classrooms. (Grimmett in Doll, 2017, p. 68)
I begin this exploration of curriculum as ‘complicated conversation’ with the disclaimer and clarification that I am not questioning the commitment made to study the history of Indian residential schools per se. Having worked with First Nations and Métis People throughout my career, I am convinced that this responsibility, on the part of all Canadians, is long overdue.
Rather, it is the explanations given for this commitment—the aims identified in tackling
‘traumatic’ subject matter or difficult knowledge—that is the sole focus of this study. This is an important first step, with the central aim being to identify and explore the strands of justifications given for the study of the traumatic past and then to examine each by referencing historic antecedents and present context for the various rationale. The rationales were initially identified and drawn from statements made by diverse parties including members of the TRC, Canadian 50
politicians, academics and educators. These justifications were subsequently categorized in six groupings. The next step was to connect each one of these rationale or reasons to engage in the study of the traumatic past to academic literature, particularly the scholarship arising in the post-
Holocaust era. Without such an investigation, the adoption of a required curriculum which requires studying the traumatic past, is likely to remain a shallow foray into subject matter with a mindset (or intentionality) that is at best certainly naïve and, in a worse-case scenario, ill-advised
(Simon et. al., 2000).
Each of the substantive chapters will use the frame of ‘verticality and horizontality’ to situate the analysis of each identified rationale grouping within the discipline of curriculum studies while also maintaining a focus on the specific CMEC curriculum commitment in Canada.
This disciplinary approach will be discussed in greater detail in Chapter 2, with particular consideration of how the inclusion in the curriculum of what has been termed ‘difficult knowledge’ relates to the study of the traumatic past of Indian residential schools in Canada and connects to an already-existing and ongoing curriculum conversation. Briefly, horizontality is an exploration of the present circumstances and the immediate context of contemporary curriculum as it is situated within a larger social, economic, political and legal milieu. Verticality connects this present moment to the historic connections particularly focusing on the intellectual lineage of ideas (Pinar, 2007). The praxis of verticality is to uncover the genesis of ideas which illuminate curriculum concepts. For example, in an exploration of the provenance of the field’s leading ideas, using verticality, I explore authors who have written about the educational potential of studying the traumatic past and highlight relevant justifications for the inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum. In many ways, the use of verticality is itself an exemplar of the educational experience. Through studying these intellectual traditions 51
linked to specific concepts it is possible to uncover the roots of contemporary ideas and discourse. In this context, such exploration leads to a greater appreciation of how ideas within curriculum studies connect to the curriculum commitment to teach the history of the Indian residential schools at this particular time and place. For example, difficult knowledge is a relatively new concept and the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum has a similarly recent history. Essentially, the study of the traumatic past has its genesis in the aftermath of
World War II (WWII) as the extent of genocidal exterminations committed by a ‘civilized’ nation came to light. Although precipitated by this event, it would be several decades before educators would even consider inclusion of the Holocaust in school curriculum.
While the discovery of what came to be termed ‘genocide’ shocked the post-war generation, there was initially a global amnesia in the West. The vast majority of individuals were focused entirely on building (or rebuilding) a new and prosperous world. Most people simply wanted to move forward without the necessity of exploring the past or what had prompted such horrific behaviour by citizens of one of the most advanced civilizations of the time. With a few notable exceptions (Anne Frank; Viktor Frankl; Elie Wiesel) the stories of those who had personally experienced the Holocaust tended to be ignored in mainstream society as their wartime accounts were difficult to hear, not easily received, nor understood (Sheftel &
Zembrzycki, 2010). There simply wasn’t widespread interest in exploring the horrors of the war, nor was there any desire to contemplate the inhumanity that ended in a mass murder of civilians.
While philosophers such as Adorno, Camus, Sartre, and Simone de Beauvoir grappled with the aftermath of WWII, the rest of the world, including the education system preferred to ignore the travesties and trauma of death camps.
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In North America, it was not until the 1970’s, triggered at least in part by the Civil Rights movement and the anti-war protests of the Vietnam era, that the study of the Holocaust entered the curriculum for the first time in private Jewish schools in New York. By the late 1970’s the
President’s Commission on the Holocaust, chaired by Elie Wiesel, called for all public schools in the United States to include Holocaust education (Report to the President, 1979). Since that time each individual state chooses to address (or not) this period in very different ways. In 1993, the
Holocaust Museum in Washington opened which was another recommendation in the Report. In
Canada, there has been some take-up by individual teachers in the public school system, although there is no national commitment to include the Holocaust as subject matter. Even in
Britain, where the nation was directly impacted by the war, there was initially no commitment to teach the history of WWII or the corresponding legacy of genocide. In fact, the Holocaust did not become required curriculum until the late 1990’s in Britain after considerable controversy
(Russell, 2006).
When the traumatic past is taught, one of the most common rationale proffered for such study is the adage that “those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it”
(Santayana, 1980, np). This overarching justification—admonishing us to be cognizant of our history in order to prevent the repetition of undesirable historic events—is really an umbrella explanation which must be unpacked. There are a number of expectations that engaging with the traumatic past might realize, yet, what is comprised in these ‘inoculations’ of history so as to prevent the repetition of the traumatic past? Without further research this statement is simply a colloquial expression that might cover any number of underlying educational aims. Further exploration makes apparent what is hidden in this overarching explanation and six rationales have been identified, all of which could be considered facets of, or are clearly encompassed by, 53
this overarching rationale. While each will be explored in great depth in subsequent chapters, the following summaries provide a brief introduction to each of the six groupings of justifications offered for the study of the traumatic past (six rationales) which includes the provenance of each rationale in academic literature and/or the writings of Indigenous People.
1.3.1 Rationale #1: Historical Understanding
The first rationale identified (and explored in Chapter 3) is the study of history as an educational discipline including the teaching of historical consciousness (Clark, 2011; Lévesque, 2011;
Seixas, 2004; Seixas & Morton, 2013). A number of educational aims were identified by Moisan,
Hirsch & Audet (2015) from their research with educators. They found that those who teach the
Holocaust identify, first and foremost, the need to know history. When Holocaust educators were asked why they taught this difficult subject, most responded “It’s an important part of history”
(Donnelly, 2006, p. 53). The second most frequent response by one third of teachers surveyed was a reference to George Santayana’s famous quote, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” as this was given as their rationale for teaching the Holocaust (Donnelly,
2006, p. 54).
1.3.2 Rationale #2: Citizenship Education
The next rationale considered is citizenship education which includes a multitude of underlying aims associated with such study. The knowledge component of citizenship education runs the gamut from learning the basics of democracy and understanding the rights and responsibilities of citizens to an appreciation of fundamental human rights. Closely associated with these academic aims is the acquisition of basic skills, particularly the duties and practices connected to citizenship. This can be, and often is, expanded to include an emphasis on interpersonal skills and fostering an empathetic understanding of the ‘Other’. Such a broad ambit 54
justifies teaching the traumatic past for the purpose of enhancing social emotional learning (SEL) or to inspire action on the part of students under the aegis of social justice. Educational objectives espoused by those who teach the Holocaust, for example, indicate how important it is to influence students’ attitudes towards identifying and challenging discrimination and inequities in society. There is the expectation that students will be more open to difference and demonstrate greater tolerance to diversity. By engaging critically with the subject of the Holocaust (or other traumatic historic study) students are encouraged to examine assumptions about race, ethnicity, culture and nationality although it is acknowledged that this ‘goal’ may not be reached (Moisan,
Hirsch & Audet, 2015). Two further aims connected to citizenship and education for human rights include intercultural and anti-racist approaches, both of which contain a core of the common knowledge and practices that are necessary in a pluralistic democracy. In a survey of curricula and teaching practices with respect to the Holocaust, teaching about human rights was a purpose most often favoured by teachers and selected as their primary approach (or rationale), to this subject matter (Donnelly, 2006, p. 52). Nowell & Poindexter (2018) identify that in their experience, Holocaust education is able to transform students’ perspectives on both human rights and social justice. The dual aspects pertaining to the acquisition of knowledge and observable practices concerning citizenship linked to the internalization of desirable citizenship qualities, forms the basis of what could be called the external and internal indicia of citizenship. Therefore the ‘citizenship’ rationale for the study of the traumatic past (addressed in Chapter 4), includes an exploration of both external and internal attributes of citizenship education in relation to the intention to foster more robust and resilient citizens in the future through the study of the traumatic past. In particular, studying the history of Indian residential schools may be linked to citizenship education, through previously identified aims which includes promoting respect for 55
others, a willingness to engage in the duties of citizenship, and an active commitment to live together responsibly in a diverse nation (Chambers, 2012; Osbourne, 2006; Richardson, 2002).
1.3.3 Rationale #3: Existential Study
The next rationale dwells on the ‘crux’ of difficult knowledge and draws on the literature of existentialism and the challenge of teaching the traumatic past, including genocide, to explore how this is a necessary yet risky, endeavour in terms of the psyche of the individual. The understanding of the teacher and student engaged in difficult knowledge therefore involves the possibility of either dystopic appreciation of reality and one’s tenuous existence or the possibility of kindling ‘radical hope’ (Lear, 2008; Farley, 2009) in the face of such human vulnerability.
The paramount aim of Chapter 5 is to consider the rationale for the study of the traumatic past with respect to the deeper questions of what it means to be human in an uncertain existence. In part, this comprises the study of ‘ethics’ and moral agency as both have been identified as important aspects in Holocaust education. While arguably the ethical approach identified by
Moisan, Hirsch & Audet (2015) could be included as a significant aspect of democratic citizenship education as an ‘external’ expression of one’s relationship to others, however the study of ethics is strongly connected to the formation of self and one’s internal understanding or subjectivity. It is therefore more closely associated with existential considerations as a rationale for the study of difficult knowledge. The moral education of young people has always been a focus of much debate and scholarship and it is also an important aspect identified in the study of the traumatic past. This encompasses the desire to ‘unsettle’ as a necessary precursor to overcome resistance and for education to become truly transformative by offering new perspectives and challenging existing beliefs and mindsets. Such questioning (unsettling) may be
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initiated by victims’ accounts of the traumatic past as well as what has been called a pedagogy of historical remembrance (Simon, 2014).
1.3.4 Comments on the Groupings of Rationales
While the previous three rationales identified tend to draw primarily upon what could be termed traditional, Western academic literature, and philosophical study, the subsequent three rationales seek guidance primarily from Indigenous Peoples’ knowledge and wisdom traditions.
The study of the traumatic past, conceived of from this latter perspective, draws on both the justifications for such study as espoused by the TRC as well as recent scholarship of Indigenous
People in Canada. In teaching the history of Indian residential schools there is an obligation to not rely exclusively on educational rationales for such study based entirely upon Western or
Euro-centric academic scholarship. New ways must be sought to see the errors of the past. Being open to, and thereby honouring, Indigenous knowledge and worldviews in selecting rationale(s) for the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum is essential. What becomes immediately apparent, in this research, is that even the rationale proffered for the inclusion of the traumatic past are not ‘culture free.’ Being aware of the different ways of knowing, brings an entirely different nuance, and basis for responding, to the question: What knowledge is of most worth? By analyzing and comparing the different rationales, greater clarity is brought to the curriculum conversation while at the same time celebrating inherent difference in educational approaches in ways that honour Indigenous People’s perspectives, knowledge and scholarship. Articulating and exploring the six rationales identified should advance educational efforts to encourage greater representation of, and respect for, multiple voices within the curricula. Such inclusion honours differences in knowledge systems arising from cultural diversity in a pluralistic nation. Through exposure ‘unsettling’ difference in the curriculum, personal understandings may be broadened, 57
acknowledging that “it is not necessary to devalue the standards of Western society, except insofar as they claim to be the only worthwhile standards” (Battiste & Barmen, 1995, p. 37).
The review of the next three rationale will illustrate how it is beneficial to adopt
Etuapmumk, or what has been translated as ‘two-eyed’ seeing (Bartlett & Marshall (2012);
Marshall in Institute for Integrative Science & Health (n.p.)), which means to draw upon both
Indigenous and Western-European research paradigms. This dual perspective will be used to explore the next three rationales for the study of the traumatic past identified by the TRC:
Hearing Survivors Voices; Bearing Witness; and Taking Steps Toward Reconciliation.
1.3.5 Rationale #4: Remembrance and Hearing the Voices of Survivors
This rationale for the study of the traumatic past—hearing the voices of victims— connects to both the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum and pre-existing educational efforts to study the Holocaust. Linkages between the two genocides continue to have relevance in the context of education: “For example, the United States Holocaust Memorial
Museum identifies three main goals: to remember the victims; honour the survivors, and ensure their history remains as a warning to future generations (Nowell & Poindexter, 2018, p. 2).
Understanding this rationale for teaching the traumatic past is mirrored in TRC messaging with respect to the appropriate response of Canadians, which is for the current generation to: First:
Hear the voices of victims. Second: Acknowledge and honour Survivors as well as those who are no longer with us.
This rationale for the study of the traumatic past—to listen and acknowledge those who have been harmed—is an Indigenous practice with deep cultural and educational significance
(Chapter 6). When the Settlement Agreement was signed, the TRC was established to hear from
Survivors and the Centre for Truth and Reconciliation (Centre) was established to safeguard their 58
stories. The voices of Survivors had, until the TRC, been largely absent from the historical record. The TRC and the Centre were created to honour the experiences of Survivors and to preserve their accounts for future generations as the truth is a necessary prerequisite for reconciliation. Curriculum related to Indian residential schools to have the requisite impact, requires hearing ‘directly’ from the stories of Survivors who attended these institutions.
Listening to these stories brings depth and immediacy to such history and hearing recognizes and respects victims and Survivors’ lived experiences
1.3.6 Rationale #5: Call to Witness and Bearing Witness to the Traumatic Past
Subsequent to hearing the voices of Survivors and learning from their stories, there is a necessity to draw on this experience, this new knowledge, to actively engage—to acknowledge the call to become a ‘witness’ oneself to the trauma of the past. Accepting the call to witness is agreeing to shoulder the burden of our nations’ traumatic past. Assuming this responsibility requires recognizing that ones’ way of being (or viewing the nation) can no longer remain the same. The emphasis on bearing witness, on becoming societal ‘story-keepers,’ is recognized as a central feature of the educational and legal traditions of Indigenous People in Canada. In education, inclusion of Survivor stories is a call to witness that brings with it the responsibility to choose personal actions based on acknowledging the challenges of these new narratives: “Don’t say in the years to come that you would have lived your life differently if only you had heard this story. You’ve heard it now” (King, 2003, p. 167). A rationale for the study of the traumatic past as the ‘call to witness and bearing witness’ (Chapter 7) is explored with a focus on the TRC invitation for all Canadians to hear the stories of Survivors, to acknowledge and accept the terrible legacy of Indian residential schools, and to choose to become witnesses to the traumatic past, in the present. 59
1.3.7 Rationale #6: Taking Steps Toward Reconciliation
The final rationale is based on the expectation that the study of, and engagement with, the traumatic past will lead one to address past harms and choose to take steps towards reconciliation
(Chapter 8). Probing the meaning of ‘reconciliation,’ what this concept signifies and the various aspects of education in respect to reconciliation are part of the review of this rationale for the study of the traumatic past. The rationale of reconciliation is not limited to a consideration of difficult knowledge in general, but has specific application to this particular time and place and to the CMEC mandate to require study of Indian residential school history. Therefore, addressing the TRC Calls to Action (2015) are of paramount importance and in the context of education, reconciliatory efforts must be more ‘proactive’ in nature. To this end, taking steps towards reconciliation requires the inclusion of Indigenous world views and pedagogical approaches, as well as the addition of land-based education. Equally important are curriculum changes emphasizing the importance of Treaties and legal obligations of citizenry in a country what has recognized three legal traditions and sources of law: Civil (French); Common (English); and
Indigenous (Borrows, 2010). Exploring recent case law is essential to understand how the judiciary have re-interpreted Canada’s constitutional framework by acknowledging Indigenous law and legal traditions. Ensuring curricula includes not only study of the traumatic past but also reflects the current resurgence of Indigenous People is vitally important (Saul, 2014). The study of the traumatic past becomes a basis from which to explore becoming an ally in decolonization efforts and informs students’ decision-making and choices as to their future action. Ultimately meaningful reconciliation requires the study of Canada’s history of colonization, so that students can engage in present actions on the basis of envisioning a different future.
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While the six rationales identified are helpful as an initial categorization of espoused aims, they are not, in reality, self-contained. In fact, teachers often identify one or more rationales and then transition from one to another without separating or further delineating their aims (Moison, Hirsch & Audet, 2015, p. 251). Therefore, in the concluding chapter, I will consider what can be drawn from the identification of the divergent and convergent threads comprising each of the distinct rationales for the study of the traumatic past and further consider the contribution this study has made in the complicated conversation that is curriculum.
1.4 Conclusion
In the Canadian context, in light of the TRC legacy, educators must consider their personal justification (rationale) for the study of the traumatic past. First and foremost, I encourage all educators to recognize the importance of identifying one’s rationale when teaching difficult knowledge. The basis of this research is to provide additional context to help inform educations and enhance their decision-making process with respect to fulfilling the mandate to address the history of Indian residential schools in their classroom. It is vitally important for educators to make carefully considered and conscious choices as to their aims for such study.
CMEC mandated curriculum will occur within the constraints of ‘curriculum as planned’ however it will also inform the ‘curriculum as lived’ (Aoki in Pinar, 2005). Educators must be encouraged and not constrained from adopting a more thoughtful approach for the choices made, as to rationales for such study, will impact all other aspects of the educational experience as well as the potential for transformative change. For as has been identified in Holocaust education, the study of the traumatic past should not be subject matter where teachers force “their worn values and worldviews” onto students (Karn, 2012, p. 235). Such advice is equally applicable and of value at this moment in Canadian curriculum history where there is both an opportunity and a 61
need to move beyond existing colonial paradigms. Better understanding the rationales for the study of the traumatic past has application beyond the specific situation in Canada. Given the critical importance of similarly addressing past traumatic events in other nations through educational efforts, this research provides a way forward to address previously ‘disavowed’ knowledge (Taubman, 2012). The review of rationales for study of the traumatic past is obviously relevant and necessary, not only in Canada but, in many parts of the world Such study is particularly pressing where Indigenous people have been grievously impacted by a colonial history and where the traumatic past continues to be excluded from a national curriculum story.
Uncovering the justifications and expectations which motivate the inclusion of difficult knowledge as subject matter (the traumatic past) within the curriculum, exposes both consciously articulated reasons and possible unconscious motivations. Once this groundwork is established, it is possible to consider the difficult choices educators must make in determining their own personal expectations for the study of the traumatic past. Without an understanding as to ‘why’ the traumatic past is taught, educators will be unable to adopt a conscious and well-articulated approach to such study. In addition, without a clear understanding or articulation of one’s aim as to the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum, unrealistic expectations may likely arise which undermine the potential or skew the purpose of such study. This research is particularly timely and necessary in light of the CMEC decision to mandate curriculum and the commitment of many school jurisdictions to continue reconciliation efforts as set out by the TRC. Studying the traumatic past is a contentious issue in many places in the world. Canadian educators have only recently been called upon to recognize the necessity to “work through the traumatic catastrophes we have inherited,” (Simon et. al., 2000, p. 6) and to honourably attend to the ghosts of the past that remain with us—the ghosts that continue to haunt our present circumstances in 62
society. We all have a responsibility to address societal inequities arising from the traumatic past, recognizing that these ghosts of the past, which linger are “actually the remnants of ideas, the residue of trauma … [and education] calls on me to recognize the hauntings and to confront ghosts, most particularly ghosts that remind, replay, recapitulate, re-present, and reproduce the trauma of the ever-present racialized past (Baszile, 2017, p. 9). There is equivalency with the concept and practice of currere, as similarly “currere calls upon us to recognize the hauntings and to confront the ghosts” (Pinar, 2017, p. 203) in order to address the residue of trauma imbued in a mutual legacy of the traumatic past. In a positive sense, such ‘hauntings’ can access not only past trauma which must be addressed, but also unlock past knowledge, for: “Reactivation of the past means becoming haunted in the present, feeling fidelity not only to one’s students, to ideas, to inquiry itself, but also to those whose presence—and absence—structures the complicated conversation that is the curriculum” (Pinar, 2017, p. 204).
As noted, in 2008, a public apology was made by the federal government acknowledging the tremendous wrongs perpetrated on First Nations, Inuit and Métis People in establishing
Indian residential schools (CBC, 2008). This marked a significant change in government policy and in national awareness. Prior to the apology, this historical event and the traumatic aftermath experienced by the majority of Indigenous People was largely ‘unacknowledged and disavowed’
(Taubman, 2012) within the Canadian curriculum and the national narrative. Many teachers in the school system admitted they did not learn any history relating to Indigenous People or study post-contact issues in their undergraduate degree or training as teachers (Dion, 2009). The establishment of the TRC played a key role in drawing attention to this untold and previously unacknowledged history. These colonial wounds continue to haunt our collective historical consciousness. What we choose to tell ourselves, or not tell, often reflects a national narrative 63
that is ‘deeply fragmented, situated, and partial’ (Ng-A-Fook, 2014). Indian residential schools provided a deeply flawed approach to education premised on colonialist ideology that undermined relations with Indigenous People. Addressing the harms from the institutionalization of colonialist practices and restoring respectful relationships in the present is essential for future reconciliation. If a pedagogy of remembrance is called for, as advocated by Simons et. al. (2000), it must be cognizant of inherent challenges in such an educational endeavour. Many have questioned revisiting past trauma and eliciting troubling emotions, viewing this as not only unhealthy but potentially suspect and socially unwise. So, if the traumatic past is to be considered ‘knowledge of most worth’ and potential risks justified, then educators need to identify on what basis one revisits wrongful acts in the past, and why such knowledge is vital to pass-on to future generations. This consideration of the various rationale identified is intended to inform educators who are required by the CMEC mandate to include the study of the history of
Indian residential schools in the curriculum and as such is an essential contribution to the curriculum conversation in Canada.
Cynthia Chambers (1999) claims the existential questions: “Who am I?” or “Who are we?” are particular to this place and time. Answers to these questions must reference or connect with both the landscapes of the past as well as the places Canadians inhabit in the present. Due to this importance of ‘place’ in curriculum theorizing, Chambers encourages a turn to Canadian scholars and in particular Indigenous writers to seek localized, interpretive tools which are better suited to understanding education in a Canadian context. Curriculum theorizing is more valuable if it is grounded locally and delineates the sociopolitical, historical, and institutional landscapes of our lives as Canadians (Chambers, 1999, p. 144). Arguably, due to the Canadian experience of marginalization in world terms, there is an openness to difference and seeing the world from 64
multiple perspectives making it possible to “create a curriculum theory that is written at home but works on behalf of everyone” (Chambers, 1999, p. 137). Chambers foresaw over 20 years ago:
[A] need to experiment with tools from the indigenous (sic) Canadian intellectual
tradition and incorporate them into our theorizing … interpretive tools that allow
Canadian curriculum theorists to write and interpret who Canadians are, what we
know, and where we want to go. (Chambers, 1999, pp. 144-146)
Of course, there is no single answer to these questions. This new set of interpretive tools serves us best, from an educational perspective, if it provokes and dislodges in order to show what is behind and beyond and what is taken for granted. This may make individuals uncomfortable with society as it exists and possibly with themselves as well, however this is arguably a necessary aspect of any educational journey. This unsettling reaction aligns with the explanations given for the study of the traumatic past by Theodor Adorno, who said, “It is part of morality not to be at home in one’s home” (Adorno in Chambers, 1999, p. 147),
The presumed Canadian history of tolerance for difference and equality is often contrasted with the ‘Indian wars’ and slavery in the United States and the Holocaust in Europe, as well as numerous examples of racial, religious, and cultural prejudices culminating in more recent genocides around the world. This distinction along with Canada’s role as ‘peace-keeper,’ has led many Canadians to espouse a claim of ‘moral exceptionalism.’ However, such a self- aggrandizing and comfortable belief has been weakened, if not completely undermined, by revelations of widespread physical, emotional, and sexual abuse at Indian residential schools with such harms occurring as a direct result of Canada’s colonial laws and policies. The TRC has now exposed that establishing these schools was a serious and blatant violation of existing 65
Treaties. Further, the actions taken by the Canadian government to forcibly remove children from their home communities for the sole purpose of assimilation was termed “cultural genocide” by the TRC in 2015, in recognition that such historical actions would clearly violate the UN Genocide Convention if they occurred today (MacDonald, 2017, p. 164). Until recently such difficult knowledge was either non-existent or did not take a prominent place in framing the past in Canadian curriculum. Any contemporary revisioning of curricula, including accusations of colonization and Indigenous genocide, even when framed as “cultural genocide,” continue to evoke strong and often polarized reactions: “Many settlers of European origin have little understanding of such claims, while many Indigenous peoples take such claims as accurate accounts of what happened to them” (MacDonald 2017, p. 164). The forceful removal of children from their parents in order to attend Indian residential schools is:
the darkest period in history for Native people in Canada, and the most shameful
time for the Christian churches that administered the schools … their mission was
no less than the total destruction of First Nations culture, language and traditions
… to turn Indians into white people with no connection to their Aboriginal past.
(O’Connor and O’Neal in MacDonald, 2017a, p. 166)
Speaking on behalf of CMEC, Premier Aariak (2013) perceived the commitment to teach the history of Indian residential schools as an undertaking of a ‘moral’ responsibility of educators and students, as well as articulating anticipated outcomes of moving toward ‘healing’ and
‘strengthening the fabric’ of Canadian communities. An underlying assumption of this messaging is that students must be taught this history, not simply to be knowledgeable about the past as history, but to understand the legacy that remains and must be addressed in the present:
“The past that accumulates and stirs in place is available only through narratives and 66
representations that, in part, circuit around what they cannot admit—what we cannot bear to know. And the past, however enigmatic and painful, requires our engagement if we are to evoke potential futures” (Casemore, 2017, p. 42).
Drawing on the work of Pinar (1991), the purpose of engagement with the traumatic past, is “to recover memory and history in ways that psychologically allow individuals to re-enter politically the public sphere in meaningful and committed ways” (Pinar, in Casemore, 2017, p.
44). Similar messaging is also highlighted by CMEC in their curriculum commitment. However, the question must be asked whether this understanding is being communicated to teachers and to students who will ultimately be immersed in this difficult knowledge. Study of the rationales given for the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum requires careful consideration. By engaging in the complicated conversation that is curriculum, educators will be better situated to adopt a more knowledgeable, thoughtful, and nuanced approach to the complexities inherent in the study of past traumatic events that continue to haunt the present.
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Chapter 2: Verticality, Horizontality and the Study of the Traumatic Past
When the present does not recognize the wrongs of the past, the future takes its revenge. For that reason, we must never, never turn away from the opportunity of confronting history together— the opportunity to right a historical wrong (Governor General Michaëlle Jean, CBC, 2009)
We are the heirs of the past and, therefore, trustees for the future (Ken Osbourne, 2006, p. 107)
2.1 Introduction: Research Method and Methodology
How does the study of the traumatic past, and in particular the mandated inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools in educational programs across Canada, connect to an already existing curriculum conversation? In many respects this research has all the hallmarks of a case study as it is an in-depth consideration of a particular situation: the CMEC commitment to include the history of Indian residential schools in the provincial and territorial curricula across the country (CMEC 2016). It is an exploration of one instance, in a particular time and place which enables a detailed analysis of both stated and assumed rationale for what was termed
‘difficult knowledge’ by Britzman (1998).
The research approach adopted here, although ostensibly based on a traditional case study method, is enhanced through the utilization of ‘verticality and horizontality’ (Pinar, 2007). This endeavour aims to expand the existing boundaries of the analytic framework of a case study by exploring the intellectual lineage of educational ideas linked to this event. It then connects these ideas with a broader historic and co-existing curriculum conversation respecting difficult knowledge generally and the study of the traumatic past specifically. This unique combination of case study and ‘verticality and horizontality’ was adopted purposefully to push the boundaries of a case study and to thereby deepen the current curriculum conversation. According to Celine-
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Marie Pascale (2011), research scholars working to shift the discourse in the social sciences and humanities can only challenge dominant research paradigms by developing new research approaches and then, through their research, demonstrate the strength of these novel frameworks.
This Chapter is organized as follows:
1) Justification for choosing a case study approach;
2) Explanation of verticality and horizontality in the exploration of identified rationales
(leitmotifs) and how disciplinarity connects with academic literature respecting métissage;
3) Consideration of difficult knowledge and the traumatic past, two concepts that are fundamental to this study;
4) Clarification as to what is not included in this study and other cautions; and
5) A consideration of terms used and a transition to subsequent chapters.
2.2 Case Study
I have chosen qualitative methodology and the method I used is the case study. The case study is ubiquitous in legal studies although in this research it has been modified to highlight not only contemporary contexts but also the historic connections to the ongoing curriculum conversation. Given my dual background in education and law, the case study was not only familiar to me, but offered the best approach to explore the impact of the CMEC commitment and the national resolve to include the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum across Canada. The case study allows for a deep understanding of a particular event—this unique moment in Canadian curriculum studies—through a variety of different sources using a method that is exploratory and descriptive. The appropriateness of case study in this situation is evident as the CMEC commitment is deserving of study in its own right, and this case method allows for in-depth analysis and the development of a deep understanding. What is gleaned from such a 69
detailed investigation is indispensable to inform other situations where difficult knowledge forms part of the curriculum. Although the study of difficult knowledge is mandated in this instance, the concepts and ideas assessed as being foundational to the rationale for the study of the traumatic past are equally applicable whether such study is mandated externally or engaged in by personal choice. My aim is to systematically explore this instance in time and place using the centre-point of the CMEC commitment so as to better understand the meaning that this one exemplar holds for the study of the traumatic past generally.
The methodology chosen is descriptive and as such the research methods adopted do not aim to make accurate predictions of the future, nor determine cause and effect based on past actions although there is certainly consideration of aspects of the future and the past in this case study approach. The case method focuses on present circumstances (horizontality) and on historical connections or lineage of ideas (verticality) and furthers the curriculum conversation in the field of education by grounding this conversation within the discipline-specific historical context of education. The argument in support of such an approach is that “to know a discipline obligates one to acknowledge the already-existing conversation in which one is presuming to participate” (Pinar, 2007, p. xi). Drawing on the rationale of Martin Jay (2005), such grounding is required for “while it cannot provide (total) protection against narcissism or totalitarianism, intellectual labour enables understanding of what we experience in the world” (Pinar, 2007, pp. xii-xiii). What is high-lighted is the labour of ‘comprehension, critique, and reconceptualization’ which constitutes disciplinarity through which it is possible to contribute to the field of educations intellectual advancement ‘as well as one’s own’ (Pinar, 2007, pp. xii-xiii).
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2.3 Disciplinarity: Verticality and Horizontality
Advancing the complicated conversation that is curriculum requires furthering dialogic engagement with others, without seeking necessarily to reach forgone conclusions or foreclose inherent possibilities in the process. Here, the nexus event in 2016 (CMEC commitment) acts as the connecting axis through which it is possible to use verticality and horizontality as a disciplinary structure for in-depth curriculum studies. Verticality is defined by Pinar (2007) as the intellectual history of the discipline where educational concepts or ideas have histories that have informed previous generations of educators and continue into the present in new iterations.
Horizontality is the second disciplinary structure which is defined as the analysis of the present circumstances such as political, legal, social and life history. Of course, as Pinar acknowledges, horizontality and verticality are intertwined disciplinary structures because external circumstances necessarily provide the context to curriculum concepts and issues in education and these are always connected to, and informed by, the field’s intellectual history. Initial investigation of contextual factors relating to the establishment of the TRC, which in turn led to the CMEC declaration, will be briefly considered as an example of the complexity of the interconnections with precedential historic events. The exploration of the intellectual providence of the rationales (or six groupings of justifications) for engaging with difficult knowledge—as is required in the study the history of Indian residential schools specifically and the traumatic past generally—will be considered using verticality.
Curriculum scholarship requires one to first seek out what has been articulated or written and then to explore this intellectual context and providence of crucial concepts. Situating these concepts within their pertinent historical, disciplinary traditions as well as their contemporary context or present circumstances is key. The intention of such curriculum study is to critique, 71
which involves thorough analysis but should not be confused with criticism. To critique requires deep understanding and a commitment to elaborate on, or extend, existing concepts. It is only when a concept lacks sufficient explanatory power, that a substantial revision may be necessary or recommended, so that the concept or idea is better able to “perform their specific labours of understanding in a more satisfactory fashion,” (Pinar, 2007, p. xx).
While the primary focus is curriculum studies, much can be gained by drawing upon perspectives gleaned from scholarship outside the field of education. Therefore, references are made throughout to pertinent legal aspects (i.e. case law) and to academic literature respecting
Indigenous legal traditions and analysis. Such discussion is integral to the interdisciplinary perspectives woven into this curriculum conversation and the intellectual provocation helps to challenge traditional understandings in education. Using a different lens helps to enhance curriculum studies by offering the possibility of new and novel insights.
2.4 A Complex Métissage: A Method That is Not a Method
The juxtaposition of verticality and horizontality and the integration of interdisciplinary connections is inherently generative in nature. As this is the purpose of the approach, there are analogies that can be drawn between the ‘conceptual montage’ where the aim is to ‘complicate the conversations in the classroom’ by acknowledging the through-lines of subjectivity, society and intellectual content as transposed across academic disciplines (Pinar, 2006, p. 2) and the educational use of métissage. Similarly, Hasebe-Ludt, Chambers and Leggo (2009) articulate the vitality of subjectivity and the importance of creating personal narratives which are interwoven with connections of self and educational scholarship. My own academic and experiential background has created personal narratives grounded in the dual disciplines of education and law and this is an essential aspect in exploring the question: Why do we study the traumatic past? 72
The origin of the word métissage refers historically to the weaving of clothes from different fabrics and was later transposed into the word Métis which in Canada has come to identify an existing people of mixed ancestry who possess a unique blending of distinct cultures and claim lineage or historical roots to Métis settlements. The concept of métissage however is used in education and arts as a metaphor of fluidity, the merging of different texts and identities visualized as the weaving of many strands in a braid of contrasting perspectives. It reflects a liminal place where the distinct multiplicities retain their unique qualities yet in the braiding process something new is created through the intermingling of initial source material. While métissage was adopted as having particular relevance for exploring one’s subjectivity through life writing, the ‘method that is not a method’ (Hasebe-Ludt et. al., 2009), yet its focus on inquiry and engaging in dialogue, is equally efficacious in the context of the verticality and horizontality
(the warp and weft) of curriculum study. The inter-mixing or weaving metaphor of métissage where diverse ideas are juxtaposed and reciprocally interact is also exemplified in the interdisciplinary nature of study where texts are used to explore curriculum studies through the juxtaposition of voices. Due to the exploratory nature of this research use, objective findings or explanatory generalizations are precluded and the discourse that arises is always incomplete and subject to change. Such an approach enables an exploration of curriculum where the intertextual reverberations of ideas can be drawn from multiple sources—scholarly as well as subjective and social (Pinar, 2007, 26). In this intermingling or third space, the ‘in between’ becomes what
Tetsuo (Ted) Aoki characterized as being a space of generative, or creative, tensionality (Aoki
[1985/1991] in Pinar and Irwin, 2005). Thus, disciplinarity and métissage facilitate participation in a more complex curriculum conversation and its legitimacy is based on the potential impact it has on future actions including engaging in steps towards reconciliation. For “it is through the 73
discipline that we work to understand—and thereby change—the world. It is through study and teaching of the discipline that we work to educate the (public) … the discipline is the site from which we attempt to intervene in that larger public sphere” (Pinar, 2007, p. xix). The use of métissage in my research honours the spirit of this praxis but does not reflect the more typical usage in curriculum studies where personal stories—‘life writing’ or autobiographical texts—are interwoven as prominent strands of conversation. I purposefully choose métissage as the intertwining of voices—Indigenous and non-Indigenous—in the curriculum conversation was vital and this enables disparate elements to be combined without collapsing difference. In research this a new mixed form with the aim of generativity in the face of difference and the emphasis on promoting relationality through such discourse is inspired by Indigenous métissage, a ‘decolonizing research sensibility,’ as set out by Dwayne Donald (2012; 2009; in Abdi, 2012)
2.5 Clarification and Caveats: What the Study is Not
With greater clarity about my research approach, I also need to identify limitations of this study and specifically what is not encompassed. First, I will not consider actual curriculum development of specific programs of study relating to the history of Indian residential schools.
While implementation is incredibly important work, it is beyond the scope of the present study.
Nor will the rationale identified for the study of the traumatic past be analyzed in terms of their possible efficacy in meeting stated educational aims or objectives. While both are critical areas of concern for future research, it is premature without first engaging in an initial exploratory study. To reiterate, the purpose of the research is to articulate the aims identified in the academic literature with respect to the study of difficult knowledge with the expectation that such knowledge can, in the future, be explored in greater depth in actual classroom practice. This enquiry provides very necessary groundwork for such further and future research—for how can 74
educators teach subject matter relating to the traumatic past without a deeper appreciation of the underlying justifications for such study?
My approach has strength by bringing together diverse strands into a conversation concerning the TRC and the rationales behind engaging in the study of the history of Indian residential schools. However, an eclectic selection drawn from education literature has drawbacks in that referencing curriculum and socio-cultural studies, critical theory, Indigenous writings and Canadian and Indigenous legal scholarship is necessarily only a selective sampling.
Obviously, it is not possible to honour the depth and nuance of understanding that exists in each and every one of these fields of study because the primary aim here is rather to deepen the curriculum conversation by establishing linkages between these diverse dialogic traditions and sources. Disregarding some of the complexity is required in order not to obscure these connections and this precludes delving into each field with the depth and breadth of analysis that each field warrants. However, this must at the same time be acknowledged as an unavoidable limitation which an inter-disciplinary approach necessitates.
One further caveat pertains to the focus on Canada as a nation. I will not ‘unpack’ this concept nor critique how ‘methodological nationalism’ might impact the conversation. This simplification ignores issues that a broader lens, encompassing the international context
(transnationalism), adds to the study of the traumatic past by recognizing that Canada as a single national state is a modernist concept which inherently exists within a complex network of global actors. Language that is used in discourse, drawing on Foucauldian analysis accepts that “objects of our knowledge are defined and produced through the languages we employ in our engagement with the world and with others. Discursive formations, in other words, are not neutral; they
‘construct’ the topic and objects of our knowledge; they govern ‘the way that a topic can be 75
meaningfully talked about and reasoned about’ … just as discursive formation can legitimize certain ways of thinking and acting, they can also profoundly limit and constrain” (Coulthard,
2014, p. 103). Clearly language matters and this must be kept in mind when reviewing how perspectives within the text are framed as well as the choice of words and phrases such as portrayal of Canada as a nation. This caution extends even to the inclusion of quotations that were purposely chosen to deepen the discourse and to provide further context in the complicated conversation that is curriculum.
This leads to another caveat which is to acknowledge that it was possible to draw from a variety of perspectives reflecting the significant breadth and depth of Indigenous scholarship.
However, this sampling has necessarily been circumscribed as the primary aim was to offer the reader an introduction to rationales for the study of the traumatic past. Therefore, the complexity of debates amongst all scholars, including Indigenous scholars, had to be somewhat curtailed.
Drawing attention to discussions reflecting more controversial positions such as advocating for the wholesale disengagement from colonial institutions which are currently at the edge or completely outside the field of education has been limited. Nonetheless the diversity of perspectives of Indigenous writers is alluded to in Chapter 8 where the range of adopting an internal versus external focus is briefly referenced in the section on ‘Resurgence.’ While a consideration of how best to engage with non-Indigenous Canadians is an essential conversation, it is more correctly situated entirely within the realm of Indigenous discourse. Although reconciliation efforts will be informed by future engagement, non-Indigenous scholars arguably have no contribution to make as to the articulation of what resurgence means which is currently taking place within Indigenous communities. This study has accepted a prevalent view based on commentary of Indigenous writers, artists and community leaders that there is a need for non- 76
Indigenous Canadians to accept the reality of, and to address, the past harm of colonialism in order to improve relationships with Indigenous Peoples by focusing on greater understanding of the past and present circumstances in this country and by taking steps towards reconciliation.
This stance may be perceived as both problematic and ‘out of sync’ with some Indigenous scholars (Alfred, 2009; Simpson; 2018; Tuck and Yang, 2012) who believe Canadian society has already passed a relational tipping point that “cannot be addressed by discourses or processes grounded on nation states … [therefore the] methodological nationalism of the text may not be shared (or rather be perceived as a problem) by many Indigenous scholars” (Andreotti, V., personal conversation April 7, 2020). While acknowledging this limitation, there is nonetheless justification for adopting this approach, given that even Glen Coulthard (2014) who takes a very jaundiced view of Canadian society and has written one of the virulent critiques of the historic power imbalances in the struggle for land and self-determination in this country, concludes:
“Does it require that we vacate the field of state negotiations and participation entirely? Of course not. Settler-colonialism has rendered us a radical minority in our own homelands, and this necessitates that we continue to engage with the state’s legal and political system …. with a degree of critical self-reflection, skepticism, and caution that has to date been largely absent in our [previous] efforts (Coulthard, 2014, 179).
A further caveat must be included in respect to distinguishing between the approach of existentialism as a philosophical movement based on will as grounding responsible agency versus addressing existential questions related to one’s existence in the world. “For many
Indigenous communities, existence is a form of relationality metaphysically rooted in an unknowable ‘metabolic’ reality of entanglement” (Andreotti, 2020).
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A final limitation with respect to the use of the term ‘difficult knowledge’ is understanding that its usage does not adequately investigate the depth of psychoanalytic theory imbued in the term as originally conceived by Britzman (1998). Yet it seems appropriate as difficult knowledge was identified as evident when “studying the experiences and the traumatic residuals of genocide, ethnic hatred, aggression, and forms of state-sanctioned—and hence legal—social violence requires educators to think carefully about their own theories of learning”
(Britzman, 1998, 117). In fact, Britzman references Freud who identified there is both ‘learning about’ and ‘learning from.’ The former allows for the possibility of distancing whereas in the latter, “learning from an event or experience is of a different order, that of insight” (Britzman,
1998, p. 117). Both do require accepting discontinuity from the status quo and the implication of the learner in the educational experience. The use of the phrase ‘difficult knowledge’ in this instance brings greater understanding to educators and is applicable to any study of traumatic events in history and specifically to the study of Indian residential schools. Still, out of caution that this re-conceptualization to a new context would be problematic, I contacted Dr. Britzman.
The phrase ‘difficult knowledge’ was integral to her research agenda (1998) and described educational efforts where the difficulties of learning required even more from an individual when study involves another’s painful encounter with victimization. In such cases, it is necessary to risk internal conflicts in order to acknowledge that the past loss continues to matter in the present. Britzman identified that the human understanding of the past, such as the study of the objective facts and subjective testimonies of the Shoah, resistance is likely to arise not only in respect to the subject matter but also internally, raising avoidance (often unconscious) and the corresponding ethical obligation to ‘work through’ such difficulties. Britzman clarified:
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In my view, the idea of difficult knowledge is deeply tied to learning from
knowledge that up-ends everything one has thought before and that incurs feeling
sorrow over significant loss of self and other. There is an epistemological shift that
is experienced as a challenge for transformation. There is a feeling that banal
education is intolerable. (Britzman, D., personal conversation, April 9, 2020).
Of course, education is always an emotional situation and new ideas often feel like difficult knowledge and this is clearly the situation where study of the history of Indian residential schools presents education as having ‘served as cultural, emotional, social and historical genocide.’ This naturally raises questions challenging the comfortable belief and yet national fantasy of the law and political rules being followed, resulting in ‘feelings of agony from being lied to’ through such national mythology, or the deliberate withholding of violent history and humanly induced catastrophes. The psychoanalytic in this sense is educational, not therapeutic, with difficult knowledge including the need to end the disavowal of the past and to come to terms with a new vocabulary and perspective on colonization and reconciliation. Study of the traumatic past will have consequences and educators will need new ideas and ways to work with this history. The concept of difficult knowledge helps to identify a need for educational theories to change and move away from “knowledge as externalization” into the realm (often obscure) of
“learning from intersubjective relations, from the inside out” (Britzman, D., personal conversation, April 9, 2020). Further study also requires us to explore more recent conversations using psychoanalytic concepts such as Indigenous critique of land-based ‘unconsciousness’ and the ‘desire for innocence’ that drives colonial entitlement claims. Endeavours to challenge disavowed knowledge and the ahistorical and de-politicised tendencies in education are addressed from the perspective of exploring rationales which might challenge such curriculum, 79
but this does not include a consideration of possible pedagogical approaches which could be adopted such as the “uncoercive rearrangement of desires” toward “an ethical imperative towards the Other, before will” (Gayatri Spivak, in Andreotti et. al., 2018). As noted earlier, this study focuses on rationale for studying the traumatic past and is intended as a precursor, or grounding, for future studies of specific pedagogical initiatives.
2.6 Difficult Knowledge and the Traumatic Past
The common narrative or shared history of all colonized people constitutes a traumatic past. This trauma is the result of a complex interplay of devastating events, which includes a history of discriminatory legislation and policies, a loss of physical bearings such as one’s homeland, language, religion, economic livelihood and the loss of one’s way of being in the world—one’s psycho-cultural identity. The complex interplay of these factors while impacting each person differently and resulting in a unique lived experience is known to statistically result in an increased rate of addiction, crime, suicide and generally in overall dysfunction for the community.
For Indigenous peoples, underlying that life experience is the reality of genocide:
We have come from a history of genocide, and genocide is about the deliberate
annihilation of a race; it is about wanting to remove us from the Earth
permanently, which is very different as a concept from transgenerational trauma.
It is trauma on a more massive scale—psychologically, physically, spiritually,
culturally. It is another level of trauma again. Indigenous children and youth are
born under the staggering weight of history: the historical injustices of
colonization. (Talaga, 2018, p. 15)
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When one aspect of this traumatic past of colonization and cultural genocide is mandated by the
Ministers of Education (CMEC, 2013) to be included in the curriculum—the history of Indian residential schools—then this requires study termed difficult knowledge. ‘Difficult knowledge’ is a concept, with a trajectory that began with Deborah Britzman (1998) and is defined as knowledge that is painful to study because it involves subject matter that is both difficult to absorb and difficult because it challenges and troubles an individual’s previous ways of understanding the world. More recently difficult knowledge has been identified as signifying
“representations of social trauma’s in curriculum and the individual’s encounter with them in pedagogy” (Pitt & Britzman, 2003, p. 755) so that it is not only the content of the Indian residential school history that is traumatic, but also the impact of such study on those engaged with the subject matter. While difficult knowledge encompasses more than the study of the traumatic past, the study of the traumatic past necessarily involves the concept of difficult knowledge.
As identified by James Garrett (2017), difficult knowledge arises from both content and the contextual situation where there is evidence of individual responses of suffering, of negative feelings, and/or disorientation in one’s relationship with the world. In this sense, difficult knowledge entails “an orientation toward learning about the tumultuousness of society, recognizes the tumultuousness of our orientations to it, and further takes uncertainty as a central feature of the learning encounter” (Garrett, 2017, p. 19). The disruption brought about by difficult knowledge creates a shaken world view and this ‘unsettling’ can be considered a vital aspect of the educational experience (Regan, 2010). As identified by Andreotti et. al. (2015),
‘colonial violence from the past is not neatly segregated from the present’ as it continues to haunt
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the current generation. As a result, being unsettled by difficult knowledge is a required part of the educational experience of decolonization.
Obviously difficult knowledge is the foundational educational concept to consider in relation to the current study of the mandated curriculum (history of Indian residential schools) and the conversation about the inclusion of this subject matter would be substantially diminished without an understanding of such curriculum scholarship. The benefits and risks are found not only in the societal impact of studying the traumatic past but are also evident in respect to one’s individual psyche. One’s experiences in the world and interaction with the ‘Other’—the engagement with difference—is the very essence of what has been termed difficult knowledge
(Garrett, 2017). Thus, when teachers and students engage in the study of the traumatic past, it involves not only interaction with difficult content (i.e. historical study and the understanding of contemporary and ongoing impacts of past government actions in the establishment and running of Indian residential schools) but also encompasses the impact this learning has on the individual which is always unique and specific to that person. For example, the exposure to such traumatic subject matter may according to some academic theorists enhance one’s empathic understanding of others and result in social-emotional learning. At the other extreme, such study may lead to a dystopic questioning of what it means to be human given the propensity of violence and past acts of inhumanity toward whatever group was considered ‘Other’ at that moment in time. This can raise existential questions which challenge fundamentally one’s relationship with the world and unsettle an individual’s confidence in humanity or existence itself. Therefore, reactions of students (and teachers) of denial and disavowal are, in light of difficult knowledge, not surprising although what may be ‘hoped for’ is a response of a more positive nature such as accepting the discomfort and eschewing the more comforting privilege of choosing not to know. 82
2.7 Application of Horizontality and Verticality to Study Origins of TRC
The CMEC commitment in 2013 would never have occurred without the political, social and moral pressure exerted by the TRC, so it is expedient to review the historic and contextual factors that led to the establishment of the TRC as one exemplar of verticality and horizontality.
Previous truth commissions were required (as precedents) for the TRC to be formed, and a prerequisite for these truth commissions was the establishment of the United Nations Assembly
(UN) and the conventions that were enacted immediately after WWII in the shadow of the
Holocaust. Even the word ‘genocide,’ which is now part of the contemporary lexicon, was either unknown or a contested concept in the early 1930’s. In fact, both genocide and ‘crimes against humanity’ have relatively recent origins. In 1933, in his address to the Fifth International
Conference for the Unification of Penal Law, Raphael Lemkin, a Polish, Jewish, lawyer argued that attacks by the state on the basis of racial, religious and ethnic groups should be considered international crimes (Lemkin subsequently published a book, Axis Rule in Occupied Europe in
November 1944, in which the word genocide was used for the first time in print). The word, genocide, is a combination of the ancient Greek word genos (race, tribe) and the Latin suffix cide
(act of killing) and was used a descriptor of the Nazi policies including the systemic murder of
Jewish people. Although the word genocide was used in the indictments at the Nuremberg trials which began in 1945, it was solely a ‘descriptive term’ at this time as there was no legal weight that could be ascribed to the term. However, in 1946, the United Nation’s General Assembly adopted a resolution that affirmed that genocide was a crime under international law and then in
1948, the UN adopted the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of
Genocide (1948) and established the following legal definition, “in the present Convention,
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genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group” (UN, 1948, Article II, 1).
When it came into force on January 12, 1951, the passage of this Convention was a significant break with the traditional understanding of international law as the world community adopted a new role in responding to genocidal events. The Convention confirmed that a state no longer superseded the inherent human rights of individuals, and a nation could no longer through deliberate acts, direct incitement, or active complicity, bring about the physical destruction of a group in whole or in part. Also, in response to the devastating realization of the Holocaust the
United Nations adopted The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, proclaimed on December
10, 1948, which was a significant milestone in acknowledging, and aiming to protect, human beings from the power of the state. In Canada, this UN Convention provided a precedent to enact the Bill of Human Rights in Canada, a federal statute enacted on August 10, 1960. This was a positive first step in this country of legislating fundamental human rights although it was only a
‘quasi-constitutional’ document and ultimately had relatively little impact on the Canadian legal system, at least in comparison to the later constitutional developments.
A number of “Truth Commissions” have been established in the world. The first was in
Uganda in 1974 (Commission of Inquiry Into the Disappearances of People of Uganda since 25
January, 1971) and then in several South American countries in the 1980’s (Bolivia and
Argentina) where the aim was to uncover past human rights abuses under previous military dictatorships. The first Truth and Reconciliation Commission actually known by that name was established in Chile in 1990. Several commissions followed, including the most commonly known South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission led by Bishop Desmond Tutu which
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was established in 1995 in the aftermath of apartheid and following the election of the African
National Congress (TRC, South Africa, 2020).
The creation of truth and reconciliation commissions as well as government apologies and other commemorative acts of acknowledgement have become official ways for countries and their citizens to recognize, come to terms with, and address the traumatic past. This is a relatively recent phenomenon where reconciliatory efforts have often included the gathering of testimony of those who have suffered as well as the commemoration of the murdered and missing victims, so they are not forgotten. Based on this substantial groundwork the Indian Residential Schools
Truth and Reconciliation Commission was established on June 2, 2008 although the TRC in
Canada was unique in a number of ways (Moran, 2014). The historic foundation upon which all truth commissions are built, however, is the promotion of human rights based on UN documents which are paradoxically bound up with the darkest moments in human history. The all too human attributes of hatred and desire for dominance resulted in unprecedented extremes of inhuman violence and suffering in the Holocaust. Yet this also galvanized the promotion of ‘humanity’ in the post-war era with world commitments to restrict the power of the state (UN Conventions) and the establishment of truth commissions created against the very backdrop of a total negation of humanity (Todd, 2009).
Other developments that were also contextual pre-cursors to this momentous event—the establishment of the TRC—have previously been commented upon: the 1996 RCAP Report; a number of court decisions respecting Indian residential schools’ litigation and the signing of the
Settlement Agreement. Similar to the other truth gathering bodies that preceded it, the primary aim of the TRC was to document the history and lasting impacts of the Indian residential school system on Indigenous students and their families in Canada. The Settlement Agreement which 85
established the TRC also provided the terms of a global settlement process that allocated financial compensation to those who had suffered harm. This resolved a number of legal cases and was the culmination of the class action law suits filed against the federal government and church authorities in Canada. Two further contextual factors were vital to the establishment of the TRC. First, the repatriation of the Constitution (Constitution Act, 1982) and the enactment and proclamation of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, Part I, Constitution Act,
1982 (Charter) and specifically s.35 of the Charter, which states:
35. (1) The existing aboriginal and treaty rights of the aboriginal peoples of Canada are hereby recognized and affirmed. (2) In this Act, “aboriginal peoples of Canada” includes the Indian, Inuit and Métis peoples of Canada. (3) For greater certainty, in subsection (1) “treaty rights” includes rights that now exist by way of land claims agreements or may be so acquired.
The Constitution Act, 1982, enshrined the inherent rights of Aboriginal (Indigenous) Peoples and established the first legislative acknowledgment of land claims outside of existing treaty agreements. Significant legal cases decided after repatriation include the quintessential case of
Delgamuukw v British Columbia [1997] 3 S.C.R. 1010, which was the first definitive statement rendered by the Supreme Court of Canada confirming the existence of Aboriginal land title. This case initiated a trajectory of supportive court decisions which acknowledge Indigenous Peoples rights. Reconciliation, the rationale for the study of the traumatic past considered in Chapter 8, is most indelibly intertwined with establishing a fair and equitable relationship going forward and this must inevitably include the resolution of land claims.
Having briefly documented the complexity inherent in the interrelationship between the genesis of ideas and the manifestation of these ideas in the world (focusing primarily on the 86
political and legal context), the next step is to engage with the concepts inherent in the study of the traumatic past. Ultimately the aim is to contribute to the intellectual advancement of the field of education through research into, and explication of, the providence of ideas that have been used to support the inclusion of Indian residential school history in the curriculum. Subsequent chapters will all highlight this aspect of verticality in the exploration of ideas used to justify the engagement with difficult knowledge and the intellectual provenance of ideas relating to curriculum studies in respect to rationale identified in the study of the traumatic past.
As noted previously, the overarching conventional wisdom about historical memory and the importance of education relating to the traumatic past is aptly summed up in Santayana’s celebrated phrase: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it (1980, p.
284). This well-known adage justifies the teaching of historic events fundamentally as a cautionary exercise. This is reflected in recent years, in Canada as well as in many other locations in the world, where it has become almost a ‘moral imperative’ for governments in the
West to remember historic grievances. This imperative can be accompanied by an associated belief of the citizenry that it is not just ill-advised, but actually immoral, to forget. While this is not a universally accepted sentiment and clearly some would challenge this as a rationale for the study of the traumatic past, whenever I spoke of my research I would most often hear a variation of the Santayana adage. Yet, while this reason—that it is an obligation of individual citizens to reflect upon harmful periods that took place in their nation’s history and thereby learn from events which inevitably should, and do, continue to haunt a nation—this is actually a relatively recent idea forged in the shadow of the horrific events of the Holocaust in World War II.
Recognizing the relatively recent origins of this belief—that it is necessary for a people and a nation to address the traumatic events of the past— requires further in-depth questioning of the 87
motivation for such study. For as Simon et al. (2000) observed, this rationale still begs the question: What does this ‘justification of remembrance’ actually mean in practice:
In its most basic form, the pedagogical justification of remembrance asserts that, in
order to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past, we must learn the lessons of
history. While recognizing the pervasiveness of this claim ... what is missing from
this justification of remembrance is a sustained consideration of what ‘learning the
lessons of the past’ could mean. (Simon et. al., 2000, p. 2)
To identify what is meant by ‘learning the lessons of the past’ necessitates delving beneath the surface to uncover the underlying assumptions of what this might mean. Before proceeding further, and delving into the various rationale that are articulated to justify such study, there are a number of cautions that need to be identified.
2.8 Cautions in the Classroom
There exists a prevalent belief, most notably in educators, that it is possible to inoculate present generations through the study of the traumatic past and thereby prevent the re-occurrence of past errors and resultant human tragedy. Such confidence is likely an indicator of either naiveté or hubris as there has been no realistic confirmation that there is any legitimacy or veracity to such claims. As Hongyu Wang identifies: “We usually say that we learn history so that the same mistakes are not repeated, but history repeats in various forms despite our [best] intentions” (Wang, 2009a, p. 81). So, it is very possible that any attempt to learn from the past in order to avoid future failure may ultimately be an exercise that is substantially fraught with false hope. This lack of certainty as to the outcome however should not foreclose consideration of, nor undermine the further exploration of, rationales identified for the study of the traumatic past.
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Still, it must be recognized that legitimate concerns do challenge the assumption it is desirable, or even possible, to learn from the traumatic past and six of these critiques are briefly reviewed.
First, the commitment to this Santayana adage is seen as being at best naïve, or at worst simply foolhardy, given that it has been completely belied by the reality of numerous genocides since WWII. The narratives of ‘never again’ are disappointing and empty according to Lehrer,
Milton and Patterson (2011) in light of recurring genocidal acts. Such tragic world events entirely contradict the belief that the world has learned anything from the Holocaust.
Second, there are those who question not only whether it is possible, but whether it is even moral to try to learn lessons from the traumatic past when such study is based on the suffering of others. The claim that one can learn anything from past traumas has been challenged by Marla Morris (2001) as being highly problematic. The suggestion that one should try to learn anything from such horrific events, or that the sacrifice of victims is in anyway redeemed by acquiring a greater understanding of human nature, should be discounted as being intrinsically appalling and immoral motivations according to Morris (2001).
The third critique goes even further and argues that traumatic events are in and of themselves sui generis and beyond comprehension. Therefore, neither study, nor remembrance, should ever be touted as “the answer” to bettering society. “Perhaps some histories—especially the testimonies of violence, trauma and suffering from which histories are made—should not be
‘understood’ for … in the face of tragedies of monumental scale, such ‘understanding’ may not be ours to render” (Yoder & Strong-Wilson, 2017, p. 88). It must be kept to the forefront that the traumatic past is not a subject area like mathematics where the ‘right answer’ can be expected, nor will it ever be forthcoming through even dedicated study.
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The fourth concern questions whether opening up the past always provides positive lessons for future generations or whether there are times and circumstances when historic exploration simply re-opens raw historic wounds. Remembering the past does not necessarily inoculate individuals in the present against repeating the crimes of the past and in fact it may prove to be inherently divisive and only exacerbate pre-existing ruptures in society. The question must be asked whether bringing the past into the present is a true opportunity to identify past harms and address ongoing injustices or are there some instances of collective remembrance that are so toxic, and disputes over national commemoration so divisive, that it would be preferable, perhaps even moral, to forget? David Reiff (2016) in his book, In Praise of Forgetting, identified his concerns based on experiences in reporting on world conflicts, that revisiting history is not straight-forward and, in some cases, it can be foolhardy to dig up past events and reopen old wounds. Revisiting the past does not necessarily lead to the rectification of historic injustices nor does it lead inevitably to reconciliation. If a focus on remembrance is likely to result in renewed animosity between the victims and the perpetrators of past harms and thereby jeopardize, rather than prevent, future societal instability then the risk is well avoided.
The fifth concern is unique to education and relates to the pedagogical approach that is employed in the classroom when the traumatic past is included in the curriculum. Often, in the crucible of classroom practice subject matter is delivered in a manner so as to purposely not
‘unsettle’ students. Historic events are often portrayed stripped of emotion with undue emphasis on the transmission of facts in order to render the traumatic past in a way that is less vivid or threatening. As a consequence, students and teachers, either consciously or unconsciously, side- step a deeper engagement with the violence, suffering, loss, and devastation that is intrinsic to an historically accurate account. In this way, they become complicit in their mutual reluctance to 90
engage fully with difficult knowledge and to remain open to the educational risk that such study entails. The purely cerebral exposure to the traumatic past is not enough. Educators in particular may be overly protective and demonstrate their avoidance of highly charged or negative emotional responses by minimizing or downplaying the worst parts of the historic record and keeping the focus on a factual representation of historical trauma bereft of any graphic or potentially disturbing details. Yet according to Britzman (1998) this approach circumvents the type of unsettling engagement with difficult knowledge that must not avoided or ‘disavowed’ in the words of Peter Taubman (2012). There are significant psychological barriers when ‘learning lessons from history’ if this requires giving up old stories and ways of knowing. Confronting divergent perspectives may trigger intense feelings of psychological loss. Thus, part of addressing difficult knowledge, is a consideration of the pedagogical approach adopted given the natural tendency to protect one’s psyche and limit one’s psychological (emotional) reaction to the ‘shaking of one’s world view’ that is intrinsic to learning about the traumatic past. The individual might well choose ‘not knowing’ as a defence mechanism to maintain the equanimity of self, despite the fact that “the self is not even quite aware of what the self needs, other than to be protected from discomfort” (Garrett, 2017, p. 19). According to both Britzman (1998) and
Garrett (2017) difficult knowledge both attracts and repels, it is the ‘war within’ with respect to knowledge that one simultaneously does, and does not want, to be exposed to. The challenge is not only with the content, the trauma inherent in the atrocity itself, but the “problem of the learner being able to tolerate learning from it” (Garrett, 2017, p. 21) and "tolerating the ways meaning becomes … fractured, broken, and lost, exceeding the affirmations of rationality, consciousness, and consolation” (Britzman, 1998, p. 118). While it is understandable that the study of genocidal acts in history and the traumatic past may produce experiences of despair and 91
hopelessness, thus generating a ‘passion for ignorance’ resulting in a reluctance or outright refusal to engage in such study, teachers should not be the door-keepers preventing students from the opportunity to ‘work through’ this mourning over historic inheritances (Simon, 2014).
The sixth concern in the study of the traumatic past is the exact opposite of the concern that the subject matter will overwhelm students emotionally with feelings of angst or guilt.
Rather the worry here is that the students’ responses will be underwhelming or even worse dismissive. While some students will have a sense that their world is shaken by the knowledge that a co-existing reality needs to be acknowledged and this will bring to the forefront existential questions of meaning that are often ignored, other students will be apathetic and disengaged.
Such subject matter may be traumatic in content, but not in affect for these students. This reaction is not always a consequence of psychological denial as per Britzman but may be the result of what has been termed ‘crisis ordinariness’ where crisis is present as a never-ending condition of society with media overload to the point that ‘crisis ordinariness’ becomes the
‘structuring category of our current time’ (Berlant, 2011, in Garrett, 2017, p. 45). Whatever the reason for student disengagement, whether due to being jaded or oversaturated, non-reaction is an increasingly common phenomenon in the classroom. In light of this, difficult knowledge based on past traumatic events may have little or no impact. This issue is particularly distressing as regards the study of Indian residential schools as the ongoing consequences of the past continues to have a significant bearing on ongoing inequities in present-day Canadian society.
Such disengagement or lack of an empathetic response is especially troubling as it appears to foreclose widespread support for, or even understanding of, reconciliation efforts which are of utmost importance to Canada’s future.
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2.9 Constraints and Aims of ‘Lessons’ in the Study of the Traumatic Past
It is important to maintain a healthy skepticism as to whether learning lessons from the past actually offers any assurances of specific results from such encounters. Unquestioningly, there are no guaranteed educational outcomes. While in the past, the justification for the study of the traumatic past was often based on the promise that it could prevent the next traumatic event from occurring, it is impossible to know whether there is any validity to this claim. Any direct reference to prevention of future harms has therefore not been included as a rationale that can be justifiably explored in this study. These critiques serve as important cautions however it is still critical to give serious consideration to the specific reasons offered for why it is beneficial for current generations to study the traumatic past.
Certainly, other authors acknowledge the need to address the inherent challenges in the study of the past in order to participate as a full member of the society into which one is situated.
As noted by Hannah Arendt (2006), humans live between the past and an unpredictable future and therefore education must inevitably turn towards the past. The birth of the next generation introduces ‘newness’ into the world with a corresponding recognition that these individuals will, as adults, be required to not only innovate but also preserve the world they inhabit. Education is the essential preparation—providing a liminal space where students are not completely exposed to the pressures of the public sphere, but neither are they relegated to a private sanctuary with no opportunity for public engagement. Being born into the middle of an ongoing conversation, young people must learn to take their place in society through a study of the past, so that they are qualified to engage in civic dialogue in the public agora or the democratic gathering space of equals which is the basis of Hannah Arendt’s (2006) critique in The Crisis of Education. The importance of studying the traumatic past acknowledges that “we are in the stream of history 93
whether we like it or not, and if we are to negotiate its currents successfully we need the kind of navigation guide that a knowledge of history can provide” (Osbourne, 2006, p. 107). This is a recognition that our own time is never just our own time for we are always (already) in the midst of something ongoing—a shared inheritance, a social continuance of our society and a unique cultural context situated within a particular time period in history.
Certain past events, such as the history of Indian residential schools, pose particular challenges given the involvement of the ‘current’ government and justice system in the systemic enforcement of state sanctioned violence upon children and their families. Resistance, which is a psychic phenomenon of inner conflictual unsettling, is often in evidence when individuals’ face the challenge of past trauma and where the impacts, harms and inequities are ongoing and continue to infiltrate present realities in society. To counter such apprehension, Shoshona Felman argues that it is a necessary part of “learning anything significant, anything worth learning, crisis will be a feature” (Felman, in Garrett, 2017, p. 44). Balance is essential for whatever the aim, education should never be used to punish students with knowledge or force them to study what their psyche cannot tolerate (Britzman, 2006, p. 147). Finding the appropriate balance of unsettling and caution will always be a fine line in the study of the traumatic past.
Difficult knowledge requires teachers to both identify their purpose for including the study of the traumatic past along with carefully assessing the inherent risks in such an encounter.
Balancing the identified aims with possible meanings for students assists in study that does not foreclose thought as a result of extreme emotional responses, denial or disengagement. As identified by Simon (2000), when difficult knowledge is presented, lesson plans tend to only identify the content students are expected to know or understand about the historical event. Often little attention is given to challenges including the emotional demands placed on the learner in 94
this troubling inheritance of the past and the ‘otherness’ of such knowledge (Simon, 2014). This may generate re-thinking and make new thoughts possible and forge new relationships to ‘old stories,’ although there are no guarantees as to the outcomes in advance. What can be ensured however is that considerable thought is first required as to the rationales adopted for such study.
In challenging Canadians’ view of the nation’s history, the student and teacher must come to know what people are capable of and that the human condition is full of examples of such atrocity. Each of us is vulnerable to the knowledge of the past, particularly where this may be experienced as an accusation, where “learning is always an ongoing work in progress fraught with a desire to have things be otherwise” (Garrett, 2017, p. 25). Difficult knowledge may evoke significant complexities in terms of feelings of guilt. While this may animate more complex understandings on the part of students this requires careful consideration of the educational impact on students who are exposed to the extent of, or human potential for, causing harm to others who are different (Todd, 2001). Guilt may be felt personally, despite the fact that the content of difficult knowledge relates to past traumas where nothing can be done now to prevent the historic atrocities. The history of Indian residential schools, although it is a past atrocity, cannot simply be dismissed as a mistake or an abuse of power or a past regime as this is an ongoing legacy of colonialism. These were state-sanctioned policies of cultural genocide that forcibly separated children from parents and where the most vulnerable members of society, school children, were submitted to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. These actions and errors of omission (in terms of oversight) were the result of intentional political decisions made by the government which were then upheld by the legal system and enforced by police services.
Studying such history results in the horrifying realization that “the tools of modernity, that were supposed to, and continue to be supposed to, provide everyone access to progress and the good 95
life” (Garrett, 2017, p. 27) were the very societal structures that were used to bring about profound suffering and social injustice. This engagement with Canada’s history is further complicated by the fact that this legally state-sanctioned, social violence not only can’t be changed but has had historical repercussions that persist into the present. Difficult knowledge can become key in generating the necessary movement from troubling yet previously disconnected narratives as an effective way to challenge current understandings of citizenship and norms of social belonging (Farley, 2009, p. 526). Such study and personal reflection may in turn lead to future action to address past injustices.
We cannot predict what might be achieved in the study of the traumatic past. The argument remains that it is important for an educator to be conscious of their rationale for engaging in such study and that their aims in such study be made explicit and preferably clearly articulated. Ultimately, the inclusion of difficult knowledge is only an invitation—the attempt to learn from, rather than only learn about, the world (Garrett, 2017, p. 21). This becomes both its strength and its challenge. Remaining chapters will focus on verticality and horizontality to explore the academic lineage, context, as well as the writings of Indigenous authors pertaining to each rationale used to justify the study of the traumatic past. This review provides a necessary foundation for current class room teachers who are mandated by the CMEC commitment to teach the history of Indian residential schools which involves the endemic emotional, physical and sexual abuse of children over numerous decades. The research findings of Burke, Johnston &
Ward (2017) also support the ongoing need for such study by identifying the express reluctance of pre-service teachers to address uncomfortable issues, central to difficult knowledge, in their future teaching careers.
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2.10 Terms
Certain terms have been chosen after careful consideration to reflect current, common usage taking guidance from a review of names for Indigenous Peoples as articulated by Chelsea
Vowel (2016) and from the guide, Elements of Indigenous Style (Youngling, 2018). Guidance on terminology recognizes that there are no neutral words and it is necessary to understand that past classifications and the naming of Indigenous Peoples has long been used as a key tactic in colonization. The use of the word Indian will be avoided except: 1) where this term has a specific meaning in a legal context, for example when used in statutes such as the Constitution
Act, 1867, Canadian Charter and the Indian Act or in case law; or 2) where due to historic relevance it is used in formal naming such as the Indian residential schools or The Indian
Residential Schools Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
Indigenous Peoples is now the preferred, and most commonly used, term as it reflects a clear and ongoing connection to the land now known as Canada. However, there are situations where Aboriginal is used due to the specific legal meaning in Canadian legislation: “Aboriginal
… is a term of fairly recent origin, being adopted in the Constitution Act, 1982, to refer generally to First Nations, Inuit, and Métis peoples. It has become the most common official term used here in Canada” (Vowel, 2016, p. 10). For example, section 35(2) of the Canadian Constitution defines Aboriginal peoples as including the “Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples of Canada” and therefore in the context of any discussion of constitutional rights in Canada or in case law pertaining to these rights, such as land claims, the term Aboriginal will be used.
Other terms that are important and have specific meaning for this study are the use of small “m” –métis and large “M”—Métis. Further discussion of terms is also set out in Appendix
II. As already noted, colonial entitlement is often in evidence in the power to name or define 97
identity. There is a particular threat of colonial erasure of Indigenous peoples when the lens of métissage is used and this is of particular concern to Métis People whose name is often misunderstood or mis-appropriated (Vowel, 2016, p. 46). The concern is that:
claiming of indigeneity by settler populations means circumventing any need to
engage in decolonization. Once we are all Métis (and Indigenous), none of us are.
The categories of ‘settler’ and ‘Indigenous’ collapse into each other allowing
settlers to claim an unearned legitimacy. (Vowel, 2016, p. 47)
In this vein, in rejecting the myth of métissage, Vowel (2016) challenges the work of John
Ralston Saul (2008) who attempted to articulate a cohesive Canadian identity where he made the argument that Canada is effectively a “métis civilization” (Saul, 2008, p. 3) by virtue of the country’s historical development. His book highlighted that Indigenous Peoples have contributed substantially to the psyche of the country and this has long been unacknowledged by the nation as a whole. This would be a legitimate critique if Métis as a people were conflated with Saul’s identification of Canada as a small “m” métis nation. Saul’s message is not what is termed a
‘settler move to innocence’ for he is not claiming Indigenous heritage nor is he attempting to deflect settler identity and the responsibility of Canadians while they continue to enjoy settler privilege and occupation of stolen land—all serious concerns raised by Tuck & Yang (2012, pp.
10-11). Saul (2009) neither minimizes or dismisses the inherent responsibility of settlers to acknowledge the traumatic past and the need to engage in decolonization. In fact, the aim of
Saul’s book is not a claim of any inherent indigeneity, but a recognition that there is a need to correct a serious negation of the past, a disavowal that part of who we are as Canadians is in large measure due to the historical ties, connections and relationships with Indigenous peoples and that “Canadian culture was less a result of English and French Enlightenment values, and 98
more a result of interactions between English and French newcomers and First Nations” (Virtue,
2016, 43). Or as stated in the The Power of a Story, the introduction to A Fair Country:
To insist on describing ourselves as something we are not is to embrace existential
illiteracy. We are not a civilization of British or French or European inspiration.
We never have been … (and) to accept and even believe such fundamental
misrepresentation of Canada and Canadians is to sever our mythologies from
reality … we are a people of Aboriginal inspiration organized around a concept of
peace, fairness, and good government. This is what lies at the heart of our story, at
the heart of Canadian mythology. (Saul, 2009, pp. xv-xvi)
What Saul is explicitly stating is that settler Canadians owe a debt of gratitude to First Nations, for contributing a world view that has become an important part of the Canadian culture and identity. This has not been fully realized because the root of this identity has been consciously or subconsciously rejected. According to Saul,
living comfortably with diversity, is our particular contribution to Western
Civilization. Yet we never seriously asked ourselves how that came to be …
stranger still, in this process of examining our Western inheritance, and vaunting
it, there is scarcely a nod, let alone a meaningful nod, in the direction of the First
Nations, the Métis, the Inuit. There is no intellectual, ethical or emotional
engagement with what their place might be at the core of our civilization … so it is
both curious and troubling that we cannot bring ourselves to talk about how
profoundly our society has been shaped over four centuries in its non-monolithic,
non-European manner by First Nations. (Saul, 2009, pp. 4-6)
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As the CMEC commitment has determined, becoming informed citizens requires shining a light on the past including the historic shadows. The resolve of such study is to reframe old events into new stories and ultimately, to make sense of who we are as individuals and as a nation in relation to the new narratives of our times.
Saul (2008) relies on historic analysis in making his argument that the factual foundations of Canada as a nation is quintessentially a multiple founding nations narrative. This provides an excellent transition to the next chapter, where the rationale for the study of the traumatic past is the acquisition of the knowledge and a skill-set associated with the academic discipline of history. The first rationale addressed in the next chapter is the study of the traumatic past as approached using historical consciousness where one is expected to learn how to study the past as historian. The primary aim is to become thoughtful and knowledgeable inhabitants of Canada
(and the world) where students are able to come to their own conclusions based on analysis of the evidence of primary sources rather than become unthinking followers of opinion, speculation and specious arguments that either ignore the known facts completely or present a misleading interpretation of these facts.
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Chapter 3: Studying the Traumatic Past and the Discipline of History
History is the stories we tell about the past. Thomas King (2013, pp. 2-3)
There can be no future—no reparation—without reactivating the past. William Pinar (2014, p. 8)
3.1 Historical Consciousness and Learning to Become a ‘Skillful’ Historian
The inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum is an important part of Canada’s past and clearly this subject matter falls naturally within the domain of the study of history. However, if such study remains entirely within the ambit of the academic discipline of history, will this really meet the expectations of the TRC? If the study of the traumatic past is limited to the acquisition of knowledge concerning historic events, even if the approach of historical consciousness is adopted, does this really address the expectations of those who have advocated for the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum? Or, is there an expectation of something more than the acquisition of the appropriate mindset and attributes of a skillful student of history when a student is asked to address the traumatic past and study the history of Indian residential schools? Canadian educators must carefully consider what rationale and anticipated outcomes are desirable beyond considering studying such events from an historian’s perspective.
According to Nietzsche (1894/2016) in On the Uses and Disadvantages of History for
Life the legitimate aims for historical study include: 1) the monumental which aims to exalt former heroes and inspire emulation; 2) the ‘antiquarian’ or memorial in order to preserve relics of the past in the service of cultural continuity; and 3) the critical which is intended to tear down the past, in order to build anew (Nietzsche in Seixas, 2004, p. 6). Based on this schema, the study of the history of Indian residential schools cannot be for the purpose of ‘exaltation.’ Nor is it
‘memorial’ in the sense of ensuring the preservation or cultural continuity of the nation given that the memorial presumes there is value in the past that justifies the continuance of society 101
moving forward based on the same trajectory. As this trajectory—Canada as a colonial power— initiated and perpetuated this past trauma then the only aim remaining, according to this schema, is ‘critical.’ Therefore, regardless of the approach to teaching a history of Indian residential schools, whether or not historical consciousness as a method is adopted, the overarching aim must be ‘critical.’
In contrast to this more academic approach, and while not suggesting in any way that the
TRC was not critical of Indian residential schools or the perpetuation of colonialism, what was determined to be important about the traumatic past is ‘truth sharing. The TRC (2015) stated in
What We Have Learned, that ‘truth sharing’ was a necessary first step towards reconciliation.
The 10th Principle speaks directly to the role that education must play in this regard:
“Reconciliation requires sustained public education and dialogue, including youth engagement, about the history and legacy of residential schools, Treaties, and Aboriginal rights, as well as the historical and contemporary contributions of Aboriginal peoples to Canadian society” (TRC
Principles, 2015, p. 4). The central aim of imparting knowledge to future generations about this traumatic history is for this to become the foundation upon which to establish and maintain a mutually respectful relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples in this country.
Essentially proposing a restorative justice focus to the study of history, the TRC focused on what has occurred in the past that caused harm in the present is not studied as an end, in and of itself, but provides an opportunity for victims’ voices to be heard, for them to tell their truth and to receive acknowledgment (Zehr, 2014/2016). The response to the sharing of Survivors’ stories creates an obligation to actively engage in order to gain a deeper “awareness of the past (leading to an) acknowledgement of the harm inflicted, atonement for the causes, and action to change behaviour” (TRC 2015 Principles, p. 113). Thus the study of history, as truth sharing, marries the 102
acquisition of understanding (and knowledge) to the need for action—to take the requisite steps based on what is (heard) learned in order to address the harms and ‘put to right.’
The contrast between Nietzsche’s articulation of ‘critique’ as the primary aim and the
TRC’s purpose which is articulated as ‘truth telling,’ illustrate two very different motives or rationale for the study of history. While not necessarily incompatible, these aims definitely represent two very different perspectives on the past, which are: 1) the critique of historic events to tear down (admittedly in order to rebuild according to Nietzsche); versus 2) the engagement in acts of truth telling as the first step in creating or restoring respectful and healthy relationships.
These two approaches disclose considerable divergence in philosophical underpinnings. The basis for these dichotomous worldviews are founded on an alignment with critical theory
(Western) versus a grounding in restorative justice principles (Indigenous). While at times the two perspectives may present as being similar in focus, the underlying distinctions should be kept in mind when considering the remainder of this chapter.
Returning to the requirement of acquiring an ‘awareness of the past’ still raises questions in terms of understanding what Canadian students might be expected to learn. The TRC is certainly not alone in emphasizing the role education can play in addressing past wrongs as curriculum initiatives are often identified as being an essential part of reconciliation agendas
(Aitken & Radford, 2018). Yet while attention to curriculum change has been generally perceived of as necessary, changes to the curriculum alone cannot be assumed to be sufficient.
For example, the teachers’ role in reconciliation efforts requires further study and without this, simply broadening the content of the curriculum may not address underlying structures of mainstream colonial messaging and normativity (Aitken & Radford, 2018). With respect to content, there is also a caution that, 103
[while] more inclusive histories have brought the experiences of indigenous (sic)
peoples into a more public conversation about social justice and the consequences
of ‘nation building’ as colonization, the deeper perspectives of Aboriginal peoples
in regard to their understandings … and the principles of their knowledge systems
are usually missing” (Marker, 2011, p. 97).
This concern, that the Indigenous world-view is either absent or minimized, must be a central consideration when assessing the efficacy of history as a disciplinary project either in terms of method or subject matter. Despite these cautions, there is still tremendous support for historical study as an essential rationale and necessarily taking a central role in addressing the traumatic past (Cole, 2007; Henderson & Wakeham, 2013; Simon, 2005, 2013).
3.2 The Academic Discipline of History: Historiography and Master Narratives
While in common parlance the two words ‘history’ and ‘the past’ are often used interchangeably in the English language, historians clarify that the past is all that has occurred in time before the present moment whereas history is first and foremost a process of interpretation of the records from the past (Arnold, 2000, p. 5). In the words of Margaret Conrad (2011) the past is not history but merely provides the raw materials that historians use to study the past.
History as a discipline encompasses uncovering and examining evidence and using these artifacts and testimony to inform the interpretation of what occurred in the past. Often a narrative is created to give meaning, make sense of, or provide an explanation of the connection of the past to the present. In this context what is meant by learning history as subject matter is both content to be studied, as well as a disciplinary approach to explore and interpret past events. In recent years, it has been acknowledged that the overarching stories created within the academic tradition of history may actually be limited by these underlying narrative frameworks. While 104
simplified narratives can enhance a student’s grasp of past events by reducing the breadth and complexity of these events, the ‘accessible’ versions of history tend to lack the nuance of what occurs in real life. Of particular concern is the actual selection of what is considered important based on a focus that determines what is ‘relevant.’ The choice of narratives will naturally favour particular historical events or people over the depiction of other individuals and subject matter.
Of course, this raises questions as to how such decisions are made and the justifications given for valuing certain events as meriting inclusion while other, often more problematic (or traumatic) events, are excluded. This is well illustrated by the long-standing omission of the history of
Indian residential schools from the curriculum which has only recently been acknowledged.
History as an academic subject, including the theories and methods of historical inquiry are currently in flux and have obviously changed over time. Broad interpretations, or templates, placed on past events are now understood to be shaped by present biases or the ‘interests’ of those who select aspects of the past to concoct the ‘stories’ of history. William Grant (1929), concedes that history is more of an art than a science:
The facts are in number infinite; the artist selects. History proves anything or
nothing … history is so vast, the facts are so varied, that any artist can make of
them what he (or she) will, and then any other artist can pull the result to pieces
(Grant, 1929, p. 344).
Conrad (2011) recognizes that contemporary historians have become more modest in making claims of objectively presenting history. In fact, exploration of past events from a variety of perspectives may be the only way for historians to approach the scientific ideal of objectivity
(Conrad, 2011, p. 33). To incorporate a number of viewpoints, the search for first-hand accounts, or reliance upon eyewitness testimony, is a continuation of a time-honoured tradition dating back 105
to Thucydides, whose account of the Peloponnesian war was the first, according to historian
Charles Cochrane, to focus on cause and effect in people’s lives. This was a more grounded presentation which excluded any consideration of divine entities intervening in human affairs as had been the predominate understanding in the ancient world. This approach to history became the predecessor to the modern methods based on scientific inquiry although those who study history still “recognize, as Thucydides did twenty-five hundred years ago that the past is necessarily embedded in the present human condition” (Nash et. al., 1997, p. 10). This intimate connection between history as produced and the very human endeavour of producing history is captured in the study of historiography—a vitally important consideration, given that all approaches to writing history must necessarily read meaning and purpose into, rather than derive meaning and purpose from, historical data. The way history is written, or the format it is presented in, will ultimately inform what is meant by ‘learning from history,’ a phrase that is invariably used when referencing the importance of studying the traumatic past.
As already noted, the discipline of history in education endeavours to link the past and the future by presenting clear and accessible national narratives. Stephanie Anderson (2017) identifies two “master national narratives” she conceived as being the underlying templates which have structured the teaching of Canadian history. The first narrative emerged in the 19th century and held sway in the early 20th century:
[this narrative] conveys the progressive, unified, Euro-Western, colony to nation
storyline of Canada … a meta-narrative of Canadian history that communicates the
struggle and progressive triumph of early European settlers in taming the Canadian
wilderness, while highlighting Canada’s seamless transition from British colony to
ally in the imperial enterprise as an independent nation. (Anderson, 2017, p. 17) 106
The second master national narrative emerged in the mid-20th century where a more diversified understanding of Canada’s past emerges, and Canada is portrayed as a “progress-oriented, generous, tolerant and multicultural mosaic … (and it) offers a compelling storyline of social cohesion that includes tying present-day Canada to a longer course of events linked to a trajectory of human rights” (Anderson, 2017, p. 19). This latter development however was not unique to Canada and the movement towards a more inclusive narrative in history education, one that featured more diverse voices and a vocabulary of rights and social equality, mirrored similar developments in other countries. These changes to the historical narrative were part of a social movement arising from new scholarship that erupted from “the ferment of the 1960’s and 1970’s
(which) did indeed destabilize history and social studies curricula across the nation” (Nash et. al.,
1998, p. 97). The resulting backlash became known as the ‘history wars’ and while the end of the
‘grand story’ and the incorporation of minority and victim narratives impacted several nations including Canada (Granatstein, 1998; Sholdice, 2013) and Australia (Parkes, 2011), the most vociferous and acrimonious debates occurred in the United States (Nash et. al., 1998). Passionate disputes highlighted the importance of history in creating or perpetuating a national image and the divisiveness that can result from what is chosen to be remembered or memorialized.
The challenge to more traditional national narratives can be attributed in large part to a new generation of historians reflecting an increasingly diverse student body. Their innovative scholarship opened up new vistas on the past and helped to expose the fact that the previous understanding of history among Canadian children was often quite limited, fragmentary, and distorted. Yet the impact in terms of challenging the dominant narratives or distorted portrayals of the colonial past has been slow to develop (MacDonald, 2015). The curriculum has only gradually been enhanced with these new perspectives. The inclusion of voices from those who 107
have been treated unfairly or victimized is required to present a more historically complete and accurate rendering of the traumatic past. The TRC has highlighted how most of Canadian history has been presented and written from a very narrow ‘settler’ point of view, often reflecting only a small fragment of the population. The cross-Canada hearings and findings of the TRC were a stark reminder that what has been understood, or taught, as history has been a limited version of the past that neglected, and therefore silenced, many voices and rendered the national story as a one-dimensional narrative. For the majority of Canadians, the most common response to the findings of the TRC and the sharing of the personal experiences of Survivors of Indian residential schools, was that “I didn’t know” and “How did I never learn about what was happening – why was this never taught in schools?” The TRC Chair, Justice Sinclair, made a strong case for a more inclusive version of Canadian history that recognizes and celebrates the contributions of First Nation’s people and he argues such inclusion should not be interpreted as an unjustifiable move to ‘politicize’ the curriculum:
All material related to the history of our society should be mandatory. There has
been some pushback from those who say we’re politicizing the classroom, but you
already politicise the classroom by teaching cultural exclusion, not inclusion, and
continuing to graduate people who are not fully aware of all that Canada is. Our
point is, the curriculum is unbalanced. Children should be taught proper Canadian
history; that’s how respect will be maintained. Schools drive a wedge because they
teach aspects of history that leave out a whole group of children. (Sinclair in
Brown, 2015, para.6)
It is now acknowledged that the treatment of history must include greater emphasis on diversity, so that the curriculum reflects “less a history of the Canadian people, in the singular, than of the 108
Canadian peoples in the plural” (Osbourne, 2011, p. 64). While this critique of overarching national narratives as being too partial is legitimate, challenging these narratives has been seen as both vitally important and yet also controversial. Teaching a common past of a nation is generally considered crucial because it helps solidify “collective identities in the present and [a] belief in a shared past opens the possibility for commitments to collective missions in the future”
(Seixas, 2004, p. 5). Thus, the study of the traumatic past is disconcerting to shared beliefs of a common historical experience and this often engenders tremendous resistance. The inclusion of the more contentious and less savoury aspects from the past can be perceived as undermining the unifying national stories believed to be necessary to ensure social cohesion. What tends to be typical in the types of narratives routinely used to achieve uniformity is that they gloss over harm to individuals, or groups, who have been the victims of that very nation. For example, the
Canadian federal government recognizes five foreign genocides as violations of the United
Nations Genocide Convention of 1948, yet there is no acknowledgement that the Indian residential school system was a genocidal act perpetuated by this government (MacDonald,
2017). This issue of genocide has recently been highlighted in the media with the release of the report from the National Inquiry into the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women & Girls
(MMIWG-a, 2019) and their Supplementary Report - Genocide (MMIWG-b, 2019). The
MMIWG’s Inquiry was not bound by as restrictive a mandate as the TRC and was able to go much further in their final report, stating that the entire history and ongoing actions of the
Canadian government constitute acts of genocide against Indigenous people. Pamela Palmater had reflected on the fact that: “Canada has a dark history … [and] while some government officials will admit that some of their laws and policies may have resulted in assimilation, you will never hear any of them speak of their elimination policies which resulted in genocide” 109
(2015, p. 39). However, in an unprecedented move a sitting head of government for the very first time in world history, admitted to ongoing genocide when Prime Minister Justin Trudeau announced that he accepted the MMIWG’s Report (2019): "I have acknowledged that I accept the findings of the report … that this was genocide. And we will move forward to end this ongoing national tragedy” (Stueck & Woo, 2019). Use of the term genocide by the MMIWG
Report in this context has far from unanimous agreement. Political consequences have resulted from the federal government’s admission to committing crimes against humanity including the secretary-general of the Organization of American States (OAS) writing to Canadian Foreign
Affairs Minister Chrystia Freeland to suggest an international body be created “to clarify the accusations and denunciations of genocide in your country” (Stueck & Woo, 2019, para. 10). At this time the national and global political implications and what this designation and the Prime
Minister’s acknowledgement may mean in terms of education are yet to be determined.
3.3 History Wars: Promoting More Inclusive and Complex Narratives of the Past
Not as rancorous as the ‘history wars’ in the 1990’s, the recent national controversy in response to the use of the term genocide in the MMIWG Report and the Prime Minister’s acceptance of the report of genocide, illustrates how history and the way it is portrayed continues to be strongly contested in the public forum. The argument against the use of the term ‘genocide’ in this context is set out in the following critique by Edna Paris, a scholar who has studied world genocides (2000):
The commissioners’ otherwise excellent report was marred by the gratuitous
charge that Canada has committed, and continues to commit, genocide against its
Indigenous populations. Not cultural genocide, a concept that is broadly accepted
today with reference to the attempted obliteration of Indigenous culture in the 110
residential schools, but all-out genocide – without qualification. In its report the
National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls has
conflated the recent murders of women and girls with the entirety of the
Indigenous experience in Canada, past and present, then framed its conclusions
under the powerful rubric of genocide, for which both past and present federal
governments are held directly responsible. But these extrapolations are overly
broad. The men who killed Indigenous women were not génocidaires set on
destroying a group. They were commonplace domestic criminals – murderers and
predators who ought not to have been elevated to fit a paradigm. We forget, at our
peril, that genocide is a legal term, not a societal term. It is the worst crime in the
lexicon of international law, the apex of ‘crimes against humanity,’ the most
powerful criminal designation ever codified. Genocide is a crime whose proper
referent is the United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of
the Crime of Genocide (the Genocide Convention) of 1948, and its most important
characteristic is intent: “The deliberate and systematic destruction, in whole or in
part, of an ethnic, racial, religious or national group.” Genocide, as opposed to
cultural genocide, is the planned extermination of peoples. It is not, as asserted by
the inquiry, “the sum of the social practices, assumptions, and actions detailed
within this report.” Genocide (like all crimes) is an act. To lose sight of this fact is
to jeopardize the usefulness of one of the most important tools of international
criminal law. (Paris, 2019, paras 4-7)
A contrary position is now articulated by the Canadian Museum of Human Rights, which had previously refused to acknowledge the existence of genocide in Canada. John Young, the 111
Museum President states genocide is an “appropriate term” to discuss the colonial experience, including government policy and practices toward Indigenous peoples in Canada and that genocide is genocide whether or not it is designated as “cultural” or otherwise (Hobson, 2019).
According to MacDonald, such contrary public positions constitute the very definition of history wars: “History wars can be defined as debates over collective memory within a national territory, between those separated by generational, ethnic, ideological or other divisions deemed to be of fundamental importance to members of the groups involved” (MacDonald, 2015, p. 412).
Despite the academic legitimacy of a reinterpretation of history based on the addition of new voices, significant public concern has emerged that this ‘new’ approach to history will not generate the necessary nationalistic sentiments or support a cohesive and triumphant vision of nation-building. Particularly pronounced in the United States is the belief that a negative portrayal of the past will dishonour American traditions and Western values. The argument was made that, “until American students reached college they should not be exposed to the “blunders, foibles and frailties of prominent heroes and patriots” or even learn about unsavory aspects of the
American past such as slavery or the displacement of Native Americans” (Nash et. al., 1998, p.
30). This is a pronounced contrast to the innovative curriculum which has been developed in response to the call by the TRC to develop age-appropriate educational material to teach the history of Indian residential schools. Teacher resources have been written for elementary grades
(FNESC, 2017; UBC, 2019) and books and other classroom resources have been prepared for children as young as 4 years of age (Bellerichard, 2015; OISE, 2019). Education was a key part of the TRC’s mandate and recommendations and work began as a result of the TRC Interim
Report (2012) to address gaps in the curriculum and continue in its response to the TRC Final
Report, “Call To Action” #62 (i)(ii): 112
62) We call upon the federal, provincial, and territorial governments, in consultation and
collaboration with Survivors, Aboriginal peoples, and educators, to:
i. Make age-appropriate curriculum on residential schools, Treaties, and Aboriginal
peoples’ historical and contemporary contributions to Canada a mandatory
education requirement for Kindergarten to Grade Twelve students.
ii. Provide the necessary funding to post-secondary institutions to educate teachers
on how to integrate Indigenous knowledge and teaching methods into classrooms.
Inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools has helped to fundamentally change the portrayal of Canadian history from being solely ‘triumphant.’ Study of the traumatic past challenges the previous focus based on heroic narratives and celebratory linear trajectories recognizing that this is a simplistic interpretation of history, an approach which lacks the nuance of complexity and subjective highlighting and interpretation of past events. History of course requires an interpretive scheme and the evidence gathered by historians must be woven into plausible explanations of the human experience. Literacy in the field of history is not the mastery of facts but a way of thinking—a process for finding intelligible patterns among the important facts of the past and offering explanations that give meaning to the world.
The inclusion of diverse perspectives and the recognition of people who have not been traditionally accorded importance as historical figures is therefore a recent, but necessary, addition to curriculum. Although now more inclusive, history remains contentious as a subject area. Studying a nation’s traumatic past is an essential part of how a society defines itself in the present and how it communicates a future vision to its citizenry. The simple question: “Whose history?” can become a ‘flash-point.’ To answer to this question determines what people, events 113
and issues are to be included and who or what will be left out. The absence of certain stories can have a significant impact:
Dominant narratives can exert a severe toll on indigenous (sic) peoples, whose
own experiences often stand at odds with how the settler government wishes itself
to be seen. Conflicts over meaning, and memory often develop when those
promoting a conservative view of the nation and its founding denounce new
narratives as disloyal and distorted portrayals of the past. Often there is a sense
that personal identity and collective egos are threated when the nation and its
narratives seem to be under assault (MacDonald, 2015, p. 412).
Efforts to promote a more inclusive and balanced representation of the past can be met with resistance and it is the stories of victims of society that are most often missing from the curriculum. Although controversy about how historic events are portrayed is nothing new, the inclusion of a greater diversity of voices has faced the greatest contestation by those who prefer a portrayal of the past that is simpler and less challenging to prevailing national narratives.
Historical study relating to the traumatic past demands even greater sensitivity, as such study uncovers and discloses events which reveal the very worst of human behavior and thus poses a threat to the national psyche by unravelling accepted and more positive national narratives.
Public resistance to the stories of the traumatic past may simmer beneath the surface and then suddenly reach a flash-point when angry demonstrations spontaneously erupt, often connected to the tangible symbols of history such as occurred with the statue controversies in the
United States (The New York Times, 2017) and in Canada (Zimonjic, CBC 2017). Underlying frictions become evident when physical manifestations of the past are contested, when: “people confront icons, symbols and monuments that celebrate historical origins, movements, heroes and 114
triumphs that are no longer seen worthy of celebration” (Seixas & Clark, 2011, p. 282). Whole- sale obliteration of historical symbols is resisted, yet what to do with these physical reminders of an earlier era—destroy them or erect alternative monuments that celebrate those who were excluded or victimized—results in highly emotional debates. Jelani Cobb in the New Yorker reports that the debate over monuments and markers poses significant challenges and “reckoning with our collective histories is a complicated undertaking with no easy solution” (Cobb, 2018, para 5). In Canada, similar arguments have arisen, particularly with respect to the obliteration of historic figures, tarnished by their connection to the establishment of Indian residential schools including the controversial move to erase historic monuments to, or positive public recognition of, Sir John A. MacDonald, the first Prime Minister of Canada and ‘Father of Confederation’
(Freeman, The Washington Post, 2017). Deeply held opinions as to public memorialization make it challenging to find the appropriate balance between a sensitivity to past victims and a legitimate way to recognize the entirety of the role played by historic figures. In addressing the existence of controversial names, monuments or representations of the past, both educational
(CBC, 2017; CBC 2019) and artistic responses (Monkman, 2017, “The Daddies”) have been proposed as an alternative to erasure. Yet contested history, language and national symbols remain subjects fraught with intense emotions on either side of the divide.
Clearly history is intrinsic to the national psyche and the school curriculum is determined by, and sometimes held hostage to, the contemporary politicization of the past. Inherent in these ongoing debates is the intrinsic fear, particularly in educational endeavours, of undermining hallowed national memories and destroying students’ positive belief in their own county. This is illustrative of the two demands on history education according to Cole (2007). First, vigorously supporting one’s country as part of a nation building narrative is a legitimate need that provides 115
young people with a ‘usable past.’ Students have stories wherein they can find the values and projects to take up as their own legacies and thereby build on what came before. In contrast to this overall positive narrative is the necessity to provide a critical history that includes the negative or unflattering events of a nation’s history. There is a “need for a usable past, which implies some kind of master narrative that is both officially sanctioned and not exclusively negative, is genuine and cannot be ignored” (Cole, 2007, p.19). Yet simultaneously there exists the necessity of achieving an appropriate balance between the opposing aims of ‘fostering solidarity’ and avoiding the creation of a ‘falsely positive narrative’.
In this context the CMEC commitment, to require the inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum, is momentous in Canadian education. The TRC was charged with leaving a legacy, so students are poised to inherit a better understanding of history or a ‘useable past’ as part of that legacy. While this in no way minimizes the terrible impact past government actions had on Aboriginal peoples in this country, there is an opportunity for students to build upon this more complex understanding of the nation’s history and to better understand their personal obligation to take steps towards reconciliation.
3.4 Three Approaches to History Education in Canada
Ken Osbourne (2006) identified three conceptions of how history is presented in education. The first category is nationalistic or “nation building”—which is learning history in support of a triumphant or developmental theory of civilization or one’s homeland. This narrative approach dominated Canadian schools from the 1890’s to the 1970’s and is still “very much alive” today according to Osbourne. The emphasis is on learning facts (memorization of names and dates—in line with the ‘discipline of mind theory’) with the underlying message that
Canada is moving forward on an upward trajectory of building and betterment. The second 116
conception was a response to the activism and social movements of the 1960’s, although it only appeared in Canada in the 1970’s and it is an approach focused on contemporary problems in their historic context. “It aimed to strengthen democracy by teaching students how to analyse and respond to contemporary problems” (Osbourne, 2007, pp. 110-111). The aim was to provide tools of analysis such as political literacy and media savvy for students to better understand societal problems in the present and ultimately address these or similar issues in the future.
However, Osbourne (2007) cautioned that by using history as the source of case studies to illuminate present problems, the past became a “servant to the future” (Osbourne, 2007, p. 111).
Finally, “the third [approach] also has long roots but came to prominence in Canada only in the
1990’s and [in this iteration] sees history as a form of disciplined inquiry and thereby [one] learn(s) to think historically” (Osbourne: 2007, p.107). This latter approach to history education is intended to encourage students to be equipped with the necessary conceptual tools to find history studies engaging in the present and to be better prepared for lifelong learning about history in the future. These can include, for example, training in historical evidence, teaching history using primary documents, skill in putting facts together and thereby acquiring insight into causal relationships. Developing a discipline based historical consciousness in students aims to increase students’ skills in identifying, applying and reflecting upon historical concepts, structures and processes. Thus, the current adoption of historical consciousness as a method is undertaken to enable students to better understand how people and institutions both shape and are shaped by events. Students gain the knowledge and skills to understand the causes and consequences of past events that are of significance to Canadians.
Sophisticated historical thinkers are not those who have successfully moved away
from content acquisition to the mastery of procedural knowledge but those who 117
have made significant progress in understanding both the substance of the past and
the ideas (procedures and concepts) necessary to make sense of it (Levesque, 2008,
p. 31).
The basis of historical consciousness as promoted by History Education Network (Then/Heir) is clearly set out for educators in The big six: Historical thinking concepts (The Big Six, Seixas &
Morton, 2012).
3.5 Historical Consciousness: Learning History as a ‘Skillful’ Historian
The end result of the history wars in the 1990’s was a new norm of greater diversity in
Canadian history curriculum with the inclusion of new voices in history classrooms. An equally important development that largely escaped public notice was:
the emergence of a political consensus that the central goal of history education
should be the cultivation of historical thinking … [while] no one suggested that
students could become skilled historians, but they could at least learn to grapple
with those fundamental historical questions: How do we know what we think we
know? How reliable is our knowledge? What does it really tell us, and why does it
matter anyway? (Osbourne, 2011, 72)
In Canada, Peter Seixas constructed a mode of historical thinking and ways of teaching that are now incorporated in provincial curricula across the country. This culminated in publishing “The
Big Six” which defines historical thinking and sets out teaching strategies for the attainment of historical consciousness thinking. Students are expected to learn the processes of historical study, which are to ask critical questions, recognize and reflect upon the conflicting interpretations, and identify their own assumptions. The aim is to enhance logical, analytic thinking, to encourage the consideration of multiple perspectives, and to explore alternate explanations before reaching 118
tentative conclusions. While objectivity is pursued as an important aspect of historical consciousness, equally important is the understanding that total objectivity can never be completely achieved. Multiple perspectives and differing narrative frames always bring events of the past into focus. Historical knowledge must therefore always be subject to further investigation and evaluation. Historical consciousness seeks to remedy the criticism that history taught as a set curriculum—history as key facts and dates—is “at best, facile and irrelevant, and at its worse, a more or less benign form of government propaganda” (Sandwell, 2003, p. 6).
Students need to become more critical in their understanding of the past—and as a result the present—and to this end the history profession has developed useful concepts, procedures and ways of thinking about the past that are quite pertinent to the concerns of contemporary students if they are to replace their naïve approaches to the past (Lévesque, 2011, p.134).
Concepts of historical thinking are far from ‘new or revolutionary,’ being part of the conversation in history education for over a century according to Lévesque (2011, p.115). Still, until recently, historical thinking was a marginal phenomenon with the predominant approach taken in education being the memorization of factual knowledge. Peter Seixas (2004) was the first scholar in Canada to conceptualize the notion of historical thinking (Lévesque, 2011, 120) and to promote an understanding that historical consciousness of the past ultimately shapes our individual and collective sense of the present and the future.
Students should gain facility with understanding the variety, the difference, the
strangeness of life in the past, the interplay of continuing and change, the multiple
causes and consequences of events and trends, the role of individuals ... (and
groups) ... they should also understand the processes of knowledge-making, the
construction of a historic narrative or argument, the uses of evidence, and the 119
nature of conflicting historical accounts. This second level of understanding acts as
the best insurance against dogmatic transmission of a single version of the past, a
practice which violates the core tenets of the discipline" of history (Seixas, 2002,
no page).
Seixas (2004) has defined historical consciousness as “individual and collective understandings of the past, the cognitive and cultural factors that shape those understandings, as well as the relations of historical understanding to those of the present and future” (Seixas, 2004, p.10).
While now ubiquitous in history education, ‘historical consciousness,’ was according to Peter
Sexias (2004), a relatively unfamiliar term a little over a decade ago although Hans-Georg
Gadamer called the rise of modern historical consciousness “likely the most important revolution among those we have undergone since the beginning of the modern epoch,” more significant, indeed, than the revolution in technological innovation (Gadamer in Rabinow et. al., 1988, p.89).
Seixas articulated the original framework in 1996, according to Clark (2011) including all of the five essential concepts: 1) historical significance; 2) primary source evidence; 3) continuity and change; 4) cause and consequence; and 5) historical perspective taking; and 6) understanding the ethical dimension of historical interpretations. It was argued that history taught in schools would be significantly enhanced if educators based their lesson plans upon the use of these questions, all of which were essentially derived from the academic study of history (Seixas, 2006). The conceptualization of a framework in the field of history education articulating the key areas of historical consciousness had tremendous impact on how history education was taught Canada.
“In Canada, over the last five years, historical thinking, as advanced through the Historical
Thinking Project’s six structural thinking concepts, has informed new curriculum documents in a
120
majority of provinces and new history textbooks from all major Canadian publishers” (Seixas in
Anderson, 2017, p. 5).
In adopting historic consciousness, “the objective of this approach is to have students develop a historical explanation of the event that shows deep understanding and the ability to analyze historical problems (Bensoussan, 2014; Lévesque, 2009)” (Moisan et. al., 2015, para
16). This approach includes placing the historic event (including a traumatic event such as the
Holocaust or Indian residential schools) in a particular context accounting for what occurred before, during, and after, the genocide. In establishing causes and consequences of these historic events students are encouraged to think historically by using a critical perspective.
3.6 Critique of Historic Consciousness
While historical consciousness is often accepted without question by educators and has arguably become the prevalent method used in the study of Canadian history, it is a pedagogical project that is not without its detractors. An important question raised is whether this method can explicitly address, or challenge, underlying master narrative templates (Anderson, 2017) and whether this approach to teaching Indian residential school history meets the expectations of the
TRC. First, the allegedly neutral introduction of historical thinking skills does not expose students to the underlying master national narrative templates. Unless these narrative templates are made apparent and troubled there is no opportunity “for full engagement with the silenced histories, and urgent identity questions—ethnic, transnational, diasporic, and Indigenous—that permeate and shape contemporary Canadian society” (Anderson, 2017, p. 6). A similar concern is expressed in the critique by Dwayne Donald (2008) that “official versions of history, which begin as cultural and contextual interpretations of events, morph into hegemonic expressions of existing value structures and worldviews of dominant groups in society” (in Anderson, 2017, p. 121
5). Historical consciousness as it is understood in historical thinking and The Big Six arguably do not effectively counter dominant storylines of Canada’s colonial past.
While it is now recognized as vitally important to counter official textbook versions of
Canadian history, the question remains whether historical consciousness is able to challenge the underlying world view that created the grand narratives in the first place. Or are these same narratives still being reproduced although the disciplinary technique for the ‘doing’ of history has been revised? In light of the work of the TRC, this remains an open question, as to whether the historical thinking project is capable of unsettling standard national narratives and thereby meeting the requirements of reconciliation. According to Anderson, the fundamental question is:
What curricular imperatives, in addition to the “Big Six,” are necessary to
reconcile history’s disciplinary tools with practices of historical consciousness
that will engage learners with the moral dilemmas associated with Canada’s
colonial legacy, silenced histories, and multiple shifting identities in the present
(Anderson, 2017, p. 6)
Any individual who looks at the past cannot avoid doing so through the lens of their own time, place and cultural context. The tools one adopts to look at the past, whether or not these are framed as historical consciousness, must account for the particular cultural ethos because without dedicated effort the underlying national narratives will not be readily apparent. While historical consciousness states it is based on rational analysis of the past it is intrinsically meshed to, and exists within, a specific worldview. Michael Marker (2011b) suggests, “the deeper problem is that the categories of what counts as history do not often correspond with the ways that traditional Indigenous communities make meaning out of the past” (Marker, 2011b, p. 97). This is due to that fact that Indigenous historical consciousness is not in alignment with the 122
assumptions of Western epistemologies, nor is it easy to integrate the Indigenous ways of communicating truths with the conventions of Western historiographers.
3.7 Indigenous Worldview and Historical Consciousness
Interpretations of the past, as represented in four themes identified by Marker (2011b) and the core concerns of Canadian Indigenous communities, are in many ways incompatible with historical consciousness in the study of the past. These four themes include:
(a) cyclical or circular understanding of time and reality; (b) recognition that the
land is a source of wisdom and knowledge inextricably bound to histories and
memories; (c) the representation of relationships (including with non-humans and,
in particular, animals and animal forms) as part of a complex ecological and
spiritual web in which humans are not always dominant; and (d) the primacy of
land based histories and knowledge over global ones. (Archibald, 2008; Dion,
2009; Donald, 2011; Marker, 2011, in Stephanie, 2017, p. 11)
For example, the circular nature of time rests on oral tradition and an understanding that recurring events bind reality together. This understanding of reality is contrasted with the premise of The Big Six which relies on a linear presentation of time and a consideration of continuity and change (or progress and decline) which are not in alignment with cyclical
Indigenous understandings of the past. The centrality of the relationship with the land and non- humans is another theme where there is a clear disconnect. The importance of inter-connections is now recognized as an ecological approach adopted in environmental studies as a fundamental understanding of inter-relationships between humans and animals (Suzuki, 2010; Butler et. al,
2017). This world view is not yet reflected in history studies where nature is not ‘equal’ but is presented as an object of exploitation with the expectation that it will be harvested for profit in 123
support of a capitalist development. The emphasis on place-based knowledge and people’s responsibilities in their relationship with the land as well as Indigenous narratives and perspectives is a noticeable omission. This is not due to any inherent weakness that:
Indigenous approaches to the past do not have categories and explanations for
events and meanings, it is that these categories do not necessarily correspond to
Western intellectual frameworks and purposes (and) … the hegemony of
modernity in historiography tends to marginalize these narratives as myths,
legends or “alternative” ways of thinking: as consequence, they end up being
treated as ‘subalternate’ ways of seeing the world. (Marker, 2011b, p. 104)
Despite acknowledging the need to focus on decolonization, it is an ongoing challenge “for historians and history teachers wanting to find common ground with historiographies that seem worlds apart” (Marker, 2011b, 98) due to the necessity of leaving behind their expectations about what constitutes ‘history’ from a Western mindset. Stories told in different ways also expose deep truths for there is a fundamental difference between a history that places people coming to the land and a story that has people coming from the land: “by making us immigrants to North
America, they are able to deny the fact that we were full, complete, and total owners of the continent” (Marker, 2011b, pp. 99-100).
Historical consciousness as an approach has an intrinsic narrative structure that is conceptually based on the scientific method and principles of Western modernity. The underlying ‘hegemonic’ messaging of such an approach is that it fundamentally disregards and therefore disavows Indigenous ways of knowing. To recognize and “counteract the systemic ways in which Indigenous knowledge systems, values and historical perspectives have been written out of the ‘official’ version of the building of the Canadian nation” (Donald, 2009, 9). 124
What is necessary is to reframe and connect the mixed understandings of history, memory, and experience between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples.
For Dwayne Donald (2009), one of the main goals of Indigenous métissage rests
upon what he calls ‘an ethic of historical consciousness’, which he describes as
“an ethical imperative to recognize the significance of the relationships we have
with others, how our histories and experiences are layered and position us in
relation to each other, and how our futures as people similarly are tied together”
(Anderson, 2017, p. 12)
Donald’s concept of Indigenous métissage, is one way to broaden the curriculum conversation recognizing that Aboriginal and Canadian perspectives are rooted in colonial histories, and while they may be antagonistic, they are still conjoined (2009). Or in the words of Chief Justice
Antonio Lamer (as he was then) in R. v. Delgamuukw, reconciliation must be balanced with the give and take and good faith of both sides, recognizing the pre-existence of Aboriginal societies yet also recognizing: “Let us face it, we are all here to stay” (1997, para 186).
The traumatic past, as history, requires particular sensitivity to different yet legitimate perspectives. For example, “A history text that explains Aboriginal starvation and dislocation as a result of the extermination of the bison on the Plains does not usually account for the loss of a deep spiritual webbing between humans and the buffalo” (Marker, 2011b, p. 103). Jonathan Lear takes up this consideration of the traumatic past by focusing on the meaning lost in the trauma when an entire way of life, both physical and metaphysical, is obliterated as a result of the extermination of the buffalo. Lear (2008) begins by relating the words of Plenty Coups, a Crow
Chief, and his telling of the story of cultural devastation: “when the buffalo went away the hearts of my people fell to the ground, and they could not lift them up again. After this nothing 125
happened” (Lear, 2008, p. 2). Clearly, much happened from this point in time from a Western
(historical consciousness) perspective, yet this analysis disregards the equally legitimate
Indigenous view of history. Chronicling the past can easily become a matter of ‘jagged worldviews colliding’ where colonialism tries to “maintain a singular social order by means of force and law, suppressing the diversity of worldviews” (Little Bear, 2000). To this end of pre- eminent importance is consideration of ways to disrupt and counter dominant storylines of the colonial past. This must include both weaving in the silenced Indigenous voices in the study of
Indian residential schools within the curriculum, as well as challenging the underlying approach that is currently foundational to studying history. Education plays a pivotal role in furthering either colonization or decolonization. Lack of awareness is problematic if through the teaching a history of the Indian residential schools the cultural knowledge of the dominant societal group of settlers is promoted over Indigenous knowledge, thereby becoming the ‘official knowledge’ of this history. As Yatta Kanu (2011) has identified: “Aboriginal scholarly effort has focused on two things: (a) challenging the dominance of Western European culture in defining and shaping school knowledge and (b) reclaiming Aboriginal knowledge, which has been devalued and delegitimated in formal education” (Kanu, 2011, p. 4). For these reasons, and also for the following two further challenges, the adoption of historical consciousness as a sole method in teaching the traumatic past is a matter of some concern.
3.8 Further Challenges: Western Historical Consciousness:
3.8.1 Basis for Reconciliation
Revising how history education relates to other key components of reconciliation and where it might fit into reconciliation efforts is a challenging and long-term process (Cole, 2007).
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Reconciliatory processes must reach beyond the level of the elite and become part
of people’s lives and also part of the midlevel and grassroots institutions, such as
schools, whose workings relate more closely to the lives of average citizens …
embracing a new vision of their future and thus a coherently revised story of their
past. (Cole, 20017, p.14)
To this end, we must know about historic events in order to engage, critically assess, and accept responsibility for the traumatic past. Such knowledge includes addressing the errors and omissions of past negative historical narratives. If the curriculum is used to whitewash, minimize or deny the injuries inflicted by a nation’s past crimes which were perpetuated by government, then educators become accomplices to those historical crimes. For this reason, history education has a crucial role to play and the curriculum commitment to include the history of Indian residential schools is an important part of deepening reconciliatory processes. Acknowledging our traumatic past, engaging in truth-telling, and critically assessing and accepting responsibility for ongoing injustices and harms that continue into the present-day, are all essential.
Changes in history textbooks and curricula would function as a kind of secondary
phase which reflect and embody the state’s commitment to institutionalizing
earlier processes of acknowledgement, apology, and repair … history curriculum,
teaching and textbook reform may also function as part of commemoration, as a
form of recognition of victims’ suffering. (Cole, 2007, p.15-16)
These curriculum changes create opportunities for educators to consider matters that were previously shunned and open up space for a wider public dialogue about the past with the aim of rectifying errors of previous governments and addressing the harms that continue to haunt us in the present. By bringing traces of past events into the present, traces of the past can break in and 127
hold open the present moment and mark it as ‘unfinished’ and thereby indeterminately alter the present and its future possibilities (Simon, 2014, p. 203). What is not completely clear, is whether revising historical narratives and adopting pedagogical approaches such as historical thinking in the study of the traumatic past will promote reconciliatory efforts or whether these changes are only made to the curriculum once such changes are possible and predominantly reflect a society that has already reached a certain level of reconciliation. In such cases it is often
“difficult to assess whether history education reform projects are a cause of deeper reconciliation, or a by-product of it” (Case, 2007, p. 18).
3.8.2 Emotional Resistance
Marshall Alcorn (2013) identified that people have various reasons for being resistant to new information and this is particularly true if it conflicts with their personal identity or key values for “people do not abandon beliefs called into question by factual information; they resist modes of reasoning that threaten their identities” (Alcorn, 2013, p. 46). The expectation of student learning and historical consciousness is that “in order to think like an historian, you parse through evidence in a rational process by which you arrive at a best answer … you look at the evidence supporting various positions and make a rational argument supporting your viewpoint on that issue” (Garrett, 2017, p. 68). Yet, Garrett also recognized that a very typical human response is resistance to rational arguments. Facts alone generally lack the persuasive power to alter personal beliefs and there are strong psychological forces which create a phenomenon of resistance or disavowal expressed in the desire not to know. In education, a contrary assumption is that rational thinking and the exploration of evidence and presentation of facts can contradict or change pre-existing false or ill-informed beliefs. However, there has been no verification that rational thinking or learning facts without addressing emotional undercurrents in the classroom 128
will necessarily have the impact that is expected or desired. Therefore, promoting significant benefits from learning to become a ‘good historian’ can only be maintained as a rationale for teaching the traumatic past, if there is a corresponding consideration of why a person may not be open to considering, much less adopting, discomforting facts. According to Britzman (1998) the mind is predisposed toward protecting already-held beliefs in what is referred to as ‘lovely knowledge.’ Lovely knowledge can be defined as:
easily assimilable, the kind of knowledge that reinforces what we already know
and gives us what we are accustomed to wanting from new information we
encounter. Lovely knowledge allows us to think of ourselves—due to our
identification with particular groups, as for example timelessly noble, or long-
suffering victims, and to reject any kind of information about ourselves or others
that might contradict or complicate the story. (Lehrer & Milton, 2011b, 8)
In stark contrast with ‘lovely knowledge’ is difficult knowledge, for the latter does not fit our pre-existing understandings and therefore poses a potential threat to our way of being. Difficult knowledge forces a confrontation with the “possibility that the conditions of our lives and the boundaries of our collective selves may be quite different from how we normally, reassuringly think of them” (Lehrer & Milton, 2011b, p. 8).
The study of trauma comprises a crucial aspect of modern thought in the post-World War
II era although Dominick La Capra (2011) notes that “trauma and its symptomatic aftermath pose particularly acute problems for historical representation and understanding” (La Capra,
2011, ix). In respect to historiography, the truth claims of Survivors and other victims may be a necessary but not a sufficient pre-condition to explore the traumatic past. The inclusion of these voices is in contrast to the traditional socio-scientific approach to history. The recent focus on 129
gathering oral evidence through stories and making statements in the form of truth claims based on personal testimony or first-person accounts, has become an important aspect of documentary evidence (La Capra, 2001). While this approach is identified by Ronald Niezen (2013) as being intrinsic to the work of the TRC, he articulates his serious reservations as to its relevance as
‘history’ stating that:
in spite of their lofty goals, truth commissions, by their nature, make poor
historians … [primarily due to] the inherent limitations of their reliance on
testimony as a foundation for historical narration and interpretation … [for]
testimony is subject to the plasticity and constructive capacities of memory, while
being shaped by performance and, by extension, by the presence of audiences,
media representation, and by … wider publics … testimony tends to be personal,
motivated, and subject to the vagaries of memory—tending toward ‘relative truth’
… and is for these reasons, if relied upon exclusively, an insecure foundation for
the reappraisal of the history of the state and its marginalized people. (Niezen,
2013, p. 130)
Yet, La Capra (2001) argues that the sole reliance on a socio-scientific approach to history, as advocated by Niezen’s critique of reliance on testimony, ultimately results in marginal impact if it is not embedded in a larger narrative. Significance for the listener only exists if victim and
Survivor statements are embedded in a ‘construct’—a story, plot, argument, interpretation or explanation—that allows the stories to take on greater meaning. Arguably, a contextual construct is necessary to generate an empathic or responsive understanding on the part of the listener.
These two approaches, according to La Capra (2001) illustrate two divergent aims of
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historiography and while neither extreme is practiced as a ‘pure’ approach both must be acknowledged as having significant and essential roles to play in the discipline of history.
3.8.3 Victim and Survivor Testimony: The Study of Oral History
Including diverse voices in the telling of national history, especially the voices of victims, has transformed historical studies. Presentation of such stories is a significant departure from a long-standing tradition of discounting stories of common people. The proliferation of interest in studying lived experience owes a debt of gratitude to the Jewish residents of the Warsaw ghetto who in the midst of WWII created personal testimonies to chronicle their everyday lives in ‘dark times’ (Arendt, 2014). Individual accounts of life in the ghetto, the Ringelblum archive, was secreted away so that in the post-war era it could become a ‘witness’ to the horror of lives lost through murder, starvation, sickness and the ongoing transports to the death camps. Hiding these documents and personal artifacts preserved the record of ordinary people who lived in traumatic times. It was both an act of resistance against Nazis atrocities as well as a counter-narrative to
Nazi propaganda about the Jewish ghetto (Kassow, 2007). While most people perished, the victims ensured that their story, in their own voice was preserved in an act of defiance against the popular dictum that history is written by the victors (Grossman, 2018).
Oral history continued to gain traction in the 1960s when historians uncovered the voices of those whose lives had previously been ignored or actively forgotten by historians—the working class, racial and ethnic minorities, women, and sexual and political minorities
(Llewelyn & Ng-A-Fook, 2017). Exploring such life stories presents students with a more inclusive and contested historical narratives and an engagement with the lived experiences of others. (Llewelyn & Ng-A-Fook, 2017). A study of history that draws more extensively upon eyewitness accounts, particularly in the representation of the traumatic past, helps to create the 131
necessary pedagogical space to enable a more personal engagement with a nation’s past (Battiste,
2002). In the Canadian context, the oral accounts of Survivors of Indian residential schools, which includes auto-biographical as well as fictionalized stories based on a foundation of experienced reality, provide a deeper and more personal understanding of the legacy of injustices in Canada’s past. Introducing oral testimonies of Indian residential school survivors in the classroom addresses the educational mandate of the TRC by fostering a better understanding of the historic injuries and ongoing harms resulting from the traumatic past. In Canada the TRC provided an opportunity to express personal testimonies of former students and it “gave flesh and blood to this new memory of residential schools” (Capitaine, 2017, p. 61) by capturing stories of common experiences such as the loss of language, culture, spirituality, family connection and personal identity as well as individual punishments and hardships including emotional, physical and sexual abuse.
Engaging with the emotionally charged stories of Survivors can be profoundly meaningful although these narratives can create personal distress by being “unsettling” (Regan,
2011). Emotional challenges such as this are an intrinsic part of an approach recognized as the
“pedagogy of discomfort” for students (Boler & Zymbylas, 2003). Moving toward ‘just’ relations in the future is a laudable aim and a purpose that arguably justifies the emotional connection necessary to motivate reconciliatory efforts. Oral history can encourage students to be consciously engaged participants in history and its meaning, rather than passive observers, by considering the perspectives of those who have been marginalized over time—voices that are not always present in historical documents (Llewelyn & Ng-A-Fook, 2017). Oral accounts, such as the testimony of Survivors, are stories that can act as a mirror reflecting past and current realities.
Such narratives can challenge established historical myths and act as a critical compass for 132
envisioning possibilities for a nation’s future direction. Listening to witnesses, vicariously living through their experience of the traumatic past, becomes a vital step forward in reconciliation education. Reliving these stories is exceptionally powerful and admittedly risky. In the words of
Thomas King: “Stories are wondrous things. And they are dangerous” (King, 2003, p. 2).
Returning to the widescale adoption of historical consciousness based on thinking concepts set out in The Big Six requires teachers to consider what is deemed to be ‘evidence.’ In particular, in respect to alternate worldviews and perspectives on the past, certain oral accounts tend to be discounted as greater weight has traditionally been given to written records compiled contemporaneously, where veracity is tested against and supported by evidentiary documents.
This is the case, even when it is acknowledged by historians that these accounts are written in accordance with the dominant thinking of the time. In the alternative, students could be introduced to the emotional and compelling nature of first-hand accounts that are more evocative and therefore persuasive in effecting change. Is this necessarily an either/or option? Much can be learned from TRC processes in terms of offering an approach to the study of Indian residential schools where the ‘best’ evidence does not necessarily require choosing a Western versus
Indigenous understanding of the past but adopts a “both/and” approach to history.
3.8.4 The TRC: Reliance Upon Written Records and Oral History
The TRC process emphasized both oral testimony and written records. The oral testimony of Survivors was honoured as part of statement gathering at national events held in seven communities across the country. At these National Events, the TRC encouraged Survivors and others, impacted by Indian residential schools, to make public statements with respect to their victimization, dealing with their “horrible, sorrowful, traumatizing experiences” (Niezen,
2013, p. 59). These events were intended to address the non-Indigenous Canadian population’s 133
persistent lack of awareness and acknowledgement of the cultural genocide inherent in the establishment of these schools. In the best academic tradition, witnesses created a written record based solely on primary source material, or in the words of one Survivor: “Our experience is our evidence, our experiences are our truth” (Niezen, 2013, p. 70).
Niezen (2013) communicates a mixed message concerning Survivor stories as evidence.
On the one hand, he identifies his concerns that the oral testimony provided “instrumentally limited reports that are subject to selectivity and omissions of memory” (Niezen, 2013, p. 84).
On the other hand, he acknowledges that witnesses became “active agents in producing historical evidence and interpretations based on personal experiences” (Niezen, 2013, p. 129). Despite this dichotomy between the veracity of historic evidence as seen from a Western perspective versus an Indigenous world-view, the TRC mandate to: “Promote awareness and public education of
Canadians about the Indian residential school system and its impacts” (TRC Terms of Reference,
2008, 1(d), Schedule N), required a substantial reliance on both oral and textual evidence. Within the six volume TRC Final Report 2015 and Executive Summary issued on December 15, 2015, there was a thorough and well documented historical representation of the traumatic past. The first volume, presented in two parts, is a detailed annotated account: Volume 1, Part 1: The
History, Origins to 1939 and Volume 1, Part 2: The History, 1939 to 2000 presenting an overall history. The remaining volumes included historical analysis focused on specific groups: ‘The
Inuit & Northern Experience’ (Volume II); The Métis (Volume III); The Missing Children and
Unmarked Burials (Volume IV).
In developing this historic record, the TRC grounded their work in academic and
Indigenous traditions drawing from original source material that included both oral testimony and documentary evidence, recognizing both of these sources as being equal in value in meeting 134
their mandate. At public events, anyone who had been affected by Indian residential schools, either directly or through the ongoing harms visited on family members and the community, was invited to share their life experiences either as public statements or in private sharing circles. A promise was made to anyone who participated that all of the statements gathered at these events would be recorded, honoured and preserved in order to “hold their rightful place in the history of the country” (TRC website, archive). By publishing their findings about the history of Indian residential schools, the TRC created a written and oral record (recordings) documenting the evidence of traumatic events and preserving these as a public record for future study and remembrance.
The TRC, however, did not realize this achievement or accomplish their mandate without overcoming significant roadblocks according to John Milloy (2013). The federal government thwarted the work of compiling these historic records. Milloy was the lead researcher on the history of Indian residential schools for the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples
(Government of Canada, RCAP, 1996) and he served as Special Advisor (History) for the TRC.
Milloy (2013) commented that the barrier to accessing original documentation without any explanation was particularly unusual given that greater access to federal government and church documents had been provided in response to RCAP requests two decades earlier. Changes in political leadership meant the Settlement Agreement and TRC had been inherited by Prime
Minister Harper.
[Harper’s] interest in and knowledge of Aboriginal issues can best be summed up
by a comment he made at the G20 meeting in Pittsburgh in 2009, when he proudly
declared, ‘We also have no history of colonialism’ (an inconsistent statement
with) … his purported apology of a year earlier. (Milloy, 2013, p. 13) 135
Unfortunately, political positioning and active obstruction is not unusual when working on a national history project because public history is “not a site of quiet scholarly activity but one of contestation” (Milloy, 2013, p. 13). Still, when 23 out of 24 federal government departments refused to produce documents despite this being a requirement of the court supervised Settlement
Agreement, the TRC was forced to resort to a court application to secure disclosure. The TRC’s core mandate required the creation of a comprehensive and lasting record of the shameful century of abuse and “this was always meant to create a sense of preservation about the past that wasn’t simply about having to trust the agent of oppression” (Falconer in CBC, 2012). On
January 30, 2013, Ontario Superior Court Justice Goudge ordered the production of up to five million records held by the federal government in accordance with the Settlement Agreement:
The plain meaning of the language is straightforward. It is to provide all
documents in its possession or control that are reasonably required to assist the
TRC to tell the story of the legacy of the Indian residential schools: Suffice it to
say that Canada's obligation ... is to provide all relevant documents to the TRC.
(Fontaine v. Canada (AG) 2013 ONSC, 684, para 69)
This decision was based on the following context as set out in the reasons of the court:
First, telling the history of Indian Residential Schools was clearly seen as a central
aspect of the mandate of the TRC when the Settlement Agreement was made.
Since Canada played a vital role in the IRS system, Canada’s documents,
wherever they were held, would have been understood as a very important
historical resource for this purpose (Fontaine v. Canada, 2013, para 72).
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Second, the Settlement Agreement charged the TRC with compiling an historical
record of the IRS system to be accessible to the public in the future (Fontaine v.
Canada, 2013, para 73).
Finally, to suggest that the federal government be allowed to limit the provision of documents to only those that immediately concern policy or operations of the Indian residential schools system is too limiting and therefore all documents, “reasonably required to tell the story of the IRS legacy, including its health aspects … [and] historical descriptions of harms caused by residential schools … would clearly be important to tell the story of the legacy of the IRS system” and therefore should be made available (Fontaine, 2013 paras 92-93).
Lead council, Julian Falconer called it a ‘truly landmark’ judgment: “The court's answers to the commission's reference will ensure that the dark chapter in Canadian history that is the residential school story will never be forgotten” (Falconer in CBC, 2013, para 17-18). The TRC
Chair Sinclair added, “We're grateful to be able to continue the commission's work of gathering and protecting for future generations documents that are relevant to the history of the Indian residential schools” (Sinclair in CBC, 2013, para 7). The importance to the TRC of ‘truth telling’ included the recording, preserving and making available to the public the history of the Indian residential school experience through both oral testimony and written records and this was necessary in order to fulfill the TRC mandate under Schedule N – Mandate (e) (f). In terms of the obligations fundamental to the TRC mandate, Justice Goudge concluded: “there is no doubt about the centrality of telling the history of the IRS experience and compiling an historic record about it for future generations” (Fontaine v. Canada, 2013 para 81).
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3.9 Conclusion
The study of history is a necessary part of addressing the traumatic past. Returning to the quote at the start of this chapter, Pinar states that it is necessary to work through the legacies of the past as it is only by reactivating the past that it is possible to reconstruct the present and thereby find the future (Pinar, 2015, p. 46). From the perspective of Indigenous Peoples, “stories are unending connections to past, present, and future … [and] diverse stories can strengthen, wound, or utterly erase our humanity and connections” (Justice, 2018). Of course there is an underlying assumption that the past, as history, is available for such study and that legitimacy must be ensured by not allowing the traumatic past of a nation or people to be either neglected or dismissed. To address this latter point, George Orwell’s novel 1984 reminds us that history can be perceived by those in authority to have no real existence. In this dystopian novel, the story of the past, records and memories, were all subject to manipulation by those in power, as demonstrated by the official party slogan: “Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past” (Orwell, 1947, p. 40).
[The Party]: ‘Where does the past exist, if at all?’
[Winston]: ‘In records. It is written down.’
[The Party]: ‘In records. And …?’
[Winston]: ‘In the mind. In human memories.’
[The Party]: ‘In memory. Very well, then. We, the Party, control all records, and
we control all memories. Then we control the past, do we not?’
[Winston]: ‘But how can you stop people remembering things?’ cried Winston.
(Orwell, 1947, p. 284)
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There are disturbing parallels between the manipulation of history in 1984 and how those in authority often suppress the study of the traumatic past. It has been well established that subject matter such as the history of Indian residential schools was most noticeable by its absence in curricula education systems across the nation. The CMEC mandate to require such study may now address the concern with respect to the ignorance in the context of Canada’s historic dealings with Indigenous Peoples. Such ignorance cannot be said to be either neutral or incidental, in fact, rather than being passive or haphazard it appears to be a pattern of profoundly purposive and wilful ignorance (Godlewska et. al., 2010, p. 419). This is troubling as:
ignorance is a powerful social force, especially when combined with mythology
and unexamined ideology. As historians, legal experts … and others have pointed
out, ignorance has been used to structure Canada’s relations with Aboriginal
[Indigenous] Peoples for hundreds of years. (Godlewska et. al., 2010, p. 436)
The Canadian government, albeit reluctantly and with years of delay, established the TRC to uncover the truth of Indian residential schools, a positive development for the nation and noteworthy in juxtaposition with the contemporary slide into a post-truth era of alternate ‘facts.’
The message from the classic novel 1984 continues to be relevant today—that we forget the past at our peril. As an understanding of, and connection to, national history is one of the most powerful tools for addressing problems of the present and thus laying a foundation for creating a better future. For this reason alone, the public hearings and the TRC Report (2015) have been a vital and unprecedented moment in Canadian history. The CMEC decision to ensure the history of Indian residential schools is included in curricula across the country is similarly a momentous step forward. This unique educational moment in Canadian history, and its connection to future
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reconciliation efforts, requires careful consideration of the question: Why teaching the traumatic past is of most worth?
Canadians require both an accurate and a usable past because national history addresses questions of identity and provides a way of comprehending one’s place in this time and place.
Including a history of Indian residential schools is illustrative of a very different age of teaching history, because:
the coherent stories that used to make up the history of Canada are more
conflicted and varied than they used to be, the happy ending promised by history-
as-story-of-unending-progress has also been tarnished … [by] the systematic
abrogation of human rights throughout the past century. (Sandwell, 2006, pp. 3-4)
The impact of the CMEC commitment should not be underestimated. Telling an accurate national history, including the unpalatable episodes of the past, as unvarnished truth versus a glorified or ‘Disneyfied’ version of the traumatic past is still a largely unknown area of study.
Sandwell (2006) advises that while educators and historians engage in a conversation about the past, we need to remember that “Canadians as a whole, in all their complex diversity, have much to offer to and learn from the politics of memory that is, and should be, at the heart of history education in Canada (Sandwell, 2006, p. 7). The work of the TRC which includes traditional historic research and connecting with the stories of Survivors provides an exemplar of how history can become a powerful tool for understanding not only ourselves and our society but also those who have been considered ‘Other’. Whether this ultimately results in an acceptance of the traumatic past as genocidal in Canada rather than promoting a nationalist grand narrative, or results in a move to teaching a history that is both “useable” and “critical” is yet to be seen.
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As the lead Commissioner, Justice Sinclair has said often, reconciliation is for us
much more than a five-year journey, it is a generational journey … listening to the
painful stories of lives and families shattered by the horrors of the school system
… [has] brought this into the consciousness of Canadians. That is the essential
first step on what will be a long journey. They have told the truth … and given the
knowledge that many Canadians now have of the dreadful aftermath that
survivors, families and communities live with every day, there is some chance
now that … steps (toward reconciliation) will be taken. (Milloy, 2013, pp.18-19)
History, like good stories, “tell the truths of our presence in the world today, in days past, and in days to come” (Justice, 2018, p. 2).
To paraphrase the philosopher Isaiah Berlin, the best way to understand what
human beings are capable of, both for good and ill, is to understand what they
have done. History teachers are sometimes inclined to repeat Santayana’s maxim
that those who do not know the past are condemned to repeat it, but this is too
simple. One could equally well argue that those who do know the past learn to
repeat it even better the second time around. The point of learning about the past
is to understand ourselves and our capabilities as historically situated beings. If
the unexamined life is indeed not worth living, it is history that provides the best
means of examination available to us. (Osbourne, 2006, p. 128)
For these reasons, seeking an understanding of ourselves and our capabilities as historically situated beings in the best of times, and in the worst of times, justifies the study of traumatic past as knowledge of most worth. The theories and methods of historical inquiry have changed over time and the frameworks for interpreting history which permeate the curriculum and determining 141
which stories are told and for what purpose have similarly been revised in recent years and therefore the inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools is occurring at an unparalleled moment. When studied with integrity, there is legitimacy in reconsidering the traumatic past in each generation. While what has occurred in the past does not change, present interpretation does, as each new generation asks different questions of the past.
The dominant collective memory of Canadians has been an ‘origin story’ of a European settler country however, as noted by John Ralston Saul (2008), by revisiting the very same evidence from the past, an alternate origin story of the nation can be developed which threads back to the culture of Indigenous Peoples who occupied the land before European settlement.
The TRC was effective in demonstrating how past narratives only presented a sanitized and therefore palatable version of the past to settlers but completely glossed over or ignored the significant injustices perpetrated on ‘Others’ who were outside the mainstream narrative of national identity.
The harsh realities of a colonial past have largely been obscured by a biased
version of history and a deliberate silencing of the Indigenous perspective by
colonial powerholders … in Canada, scholars have argued that these practices
have resulted in a wide gap between what people thought happened and what
really happened. (Pratt & Danyluk, 2017, p. 7)
Canada is finally addressing a long history of ignorance of Aboriginal Peoples and the traumatic past they have endured. Attending to this history is essential as “it is important to remember; the past leaves its mark on the present and casts its shadow over the future” (Fried, 2017, p. 1). To this end, we need to hear the story for “we are not predestined to step into the role of either the perpetrator or bystander. As individuals we have a will and a responsibility, and only be taking 142
that responsibility can we avoid history repeating itself once again” (Fried, 2017, p. 4). As will be explored in the next chapter, we ultimately need take a personal stand.
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Chapter 4: Citizenship Education
This sad dark chapter which was largely unknown, is out in the open, it has
become part of our national conversation … many more Canadians are aware of
this and certainly aware of its consequences, its tragic consequences. Now we're
faced with what to do about what we've learned … Canada was not the country
we thought it was, but it certainly has an opportunity, a real opportunity to create
the Canada that we all want to see. (Phil Fontaine, CBC 2015)
4.1 Introduction to Four Aspects of Citizenship Education:
• Democratic Education • Universal Human Rights Education; • Social Justice Education; and • Interpersonal Relations and Engagement with the ‘Other’
One rationale for including the study of the traumatic past in the curriculum is educating for citizenship. Yet such education is not straight forward given that ‘citizenship’ itself is a contested term. Conceptions of citizenship education vary and are dependent upon, and therefore require analysis of, what it means to be a ‘good’ citizen. In recognition of the competing visions of citizenship, four categories have been identified to achieve the development of a good citizen.
Each of the following four categorizations are based on subject matter or the focus of curriculum content: 1) Democratic; 2) Human Rights; 3) Social Justice; and, 4) Interpersonal Relationships.
Each will be considered in turn, in light of the question: What might the study of the history of
Indian residential schools mean for citizenship education and in what ways would this assist students become more knowledgeable and responsible Canadian citizens.
History, and in particular the traumatic past, are necessary elements of Canadian citizenship education. Without being informed through such study, the harmful effects of the past
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continue unrecognized and unabated into the present. While, individuals may not be directly accountable for events that preceded their joining of a community as citizens, there is an obligation to take actions in the present that are cognizant of, and structured by, the nation’s history. With or without their knowledge, citizens are beholden to the past and “more than in most countries, Canada’s most pressing contemporary problems are the product of its history”
(Osbourne, 2006, p. 120). While such study is acknowledged to be a site of tension and often disagreement, students who are introduced to the traumatic past can become more informed participants in the ongoing conversation concerning the nature of Canada:
There are those who say that this debate in fact constitutes the essence of Canada,
that Canada is a continuing conversation among its citizens as to what kind of
society they see themselves as living in and how they hope to shape it. (Osbourne,
2006, p. 120)
Assisting students to engage effectively in a society that is pluralistic and exhibits a vast regional diversity is challenging. Complications arise for the very reason that:
citizens do not create a country from scratch. They inherit one that has been
shaped over time, repaired and remodelled, patched here and renovated there … if
nothing else, citizenship is a historically entrenched phenomenon (and) in the case
of Canada, this historically informed view of citizenship places a particular
responsibility on the schools. (Osbourne, 2006, p. 122)
Studying the traumatic past exposes students to grim chapters in a nation’s history recognizing that this is an essential, although not necessarily sufficient, step in creating a responsible citizenry that is conversant with societal issues. Certainly, the recommendations of the TRC indicate a significant alignment with the premise that: 145
nothing can serve patriotism worse than suppressing dark chapters of our past,
smoothing over clearly documentable examples of shameful behaviour … sooner
or later they [the students] will discover that a self-congratulatory version of
American history sheds little light on how we got to the place we now occupy.
(Nash et. al, 1988, p. 16)
Canada, due to its proximity to the United States, is oversaturated with news and mass media from south of the border with relatively little exposure to Canadian contextual references in day to day life. As a result, there is an even greater urgency to intertwine study of Canadian history, contemporary contexts and cultural milieu with citizenship education. As noted, the perceived strength of learning about the traumatic past is that it helps students understand the context for problems in the present and creates the necessary grounding for students, as citizens, to take an active and informed part in the debates on the future of Canada. The aim is to make students, as future citizens, “less short-sighted and narrow-minded than we would otherwise be by helping us situate the present in the context of the transition from past to future so we are not governed solely by the short-term imperatives of the here and now” (Osbourne, 2006, p. 127).
4.2 Canadian Context
To delve into how the study of the traumatic past informs citizenship education in
Canada, in all of its permutations, it is first necessary to understand the unique national context.
In particular this includes:
1) recognition of the special status of Aboriginal (Indigenous Peoples) rights in Canada;
2) adoption of multi-culturalism as an official government policy; and
3) the Living Tree interpretation of the Constitution Acts (1867 & 1982) as well as the coming into force of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (Charter) in 1985. 146
One additional feature worth repeating is that no attempt to create a one-size-fits-all national model of citizenship education can be uniformly applied across the country. Whether or not such a national approach is desirable may be debatable. In Canada, however, a single (federal) approach is not possible due to the constitutional division of powers that allocate responsibility for education solely to the provinces and territories (Constitution Act, 1867, s.96). Therefore, before considering what including the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum means for citizenship education, it is necessary to first consider the unique political and legal context of citizenship in Canada and then to briefly review the four different content areas or aims of citizenship education already identified.
The over-arching aim of citizenship education is to develop good citizens. Yet, this begs the question: What is a good citizen? While there may be consensus in society that citizenship education is a necessary curriculum component, articulating the specifics in respect to desirable skills, knowledge and dispositions of the good citizen is where the depth of disagreement is revealed. The reason for this contestation is that underlying any determination of what traits a good citizen should possess are fundamental core values and beliefs. For example, from a global competitive economic perspective, “the good citizen … is one who is mobile, who is willing to tear up all roots and follow the promptings of the job market” (Epp, 2008, p. 140). This is in stark contrast to a traditional Indigenous perspective of “multi-generational family identity—of inheritance—rooted in the land and community, shaping something other than the ‘portable self’ of urban modernity” (Epp, 2008, p. 140). As a result, citizenship education, what it aims for and how it may be fostered, is the subject of much dispute.
For those who would argue that schools should only focus on the basics (the 4 R’s) with no attempt to shape beliefs and behaviours, there is a clear lack of appreciation for the 147
tremendous role hidden curriculum plays. It is evident that the education system is structured in a way that establishes accepted norms, for:
schools are chock full of these kinds of implicit lessons about being a good
citizen. Even without specific classes in citizenship, government, character or life
skills, how the classroom is organized, the architecture of the school, the daily
schedule, as well as the procedures and rules all have embedded lessons about
how one should best behave in order to be a good community member, classmate,
student and so on. (Westheimer, 2015, p. 37)
These implicit citizenship lessons are even imbedded in the language used. For example, if the curriculum identifies First Nation’s treaties, this promotes a common misconception that only
First Nations peoples have treaties. This is corrected by Cynthia Chambers (2012) when she encourages citizens to re-identify as Canadians with a guiding mantra that they are part of treaty relationships, stating: “We are all treaty people” (Chambers, 2012, p. 26). In fact, even this subtle change in language could significantly alter perspectives and become a touchstone not only for educators, as Chambers advocates, but also for citizenship education in Canada.
4.2.1 Indigenous Peoples’ Rights in Canada: Citizenship as Treaty Relationship
The special status of Aboriginal (Indigenous Peoples) rights in Canada is enshrined in treaties, case law and the Constitution Act, 1982. The Charter protects Aboriginal rights and confirms the unique status of these rights which are distinct from the general protection of equality rights (s.15) or the recognition of multiculturalism. Charter s.35 provides that:
s.35 (1) The existing aboriginal and treaty rights of the aboriginal people in Canada are hereby recognized and affirmed.
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(2) In this Act, Aboriginal Peoples of Canada includes the Indian, Inuit, and Métis Peoples of Canada
These rights are recognized as being grounded in a particular relationship vis-à-vis the state as well as the traditional connection of Indigenous Peoples to the land. As will be seen in the section on Human Rights, Aboriginal rights cannot be defined on the basis of the philosophical foundation of liberal enlightenment, for human rights adhere to what is common in humanity as an expression of universal values all people share, whereas Aboriginal rights arise from the fact that First Nations, Inuit and Métis are distinct peoples with an attachment to a specific place. It is for this reason that some have referred to Indigenous Peoples in Canada as “citizens plus”
(Cairns, 2000; UBC, undated) because they are entitled to all of the rights of other citizens along with additional rights based on being the initial occupiers of this land ‘since time immemorial.’
These rights, now referenced in the Constitution, were purposely placed outside the articulation of s.15 equality rights, so they cannot be limited or abridged by governments using s.1 of the
Charter.
Identifying that all Canadians are part of a treaty relationship requires revisiting what treaties actually mean. According to Chambers (2012), treaty relationships are meant to be understood as ongoing:
The treaties certainly were, and continue to be—an invitation to meet again: same
time, same place, next year … (this) is the true curriculum, the one that calls us to
renew our relationships with one another, that calls us to renew our commitment
to what we have in common, to our stake in the world and its survival, upon
which our own depends. (Chambers, 2012, pp. 29-30)
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A central challenge to educators, and to curriculum studies in particular, is attending to
Canadians’ relationships with Indigenous Peoples. This is critical for the way relationships are conceptualized directly impacts how Indigenous issues are taken up in educational contexts as curricular and pedagogical considerations (Donald, 2012, p. 40). For example, to re-visit Treaties from the perspective of Indigenous Peoples, requires recognizing the interconnectedness of people and the land. According to Chambers (2012) this includes introducing the concept that it is humans who are the ‘newcomers’ and it is the animals who are the ‘old-timers.’ Respect for, and ongoing maintenance of, ‘all my relations’ in this context requires the understanding that,
“the treaties were conversation starters, rather than conversation stoppers … a never ending, constantly unfolding narrative about what it means for newcomer and old-timer to live together in these lands” (Chambers, 2012, 28). According to Muriel Lee, an Ojibway-Cree Elder, ‘We are all treaty people’ (Lee in Epp, 2008). If existing treaties and nation to nation commitments are re-visited so that they become ‘our’ national story, then these agreements can be seen as a shared testament to what has been lost and what tragically will remain lost if there is a refusal to listen and learn from each other’s stories and from each other’s knowledge about this place and how to make our way forward (Chambers, 2012).
4.2.2 Official Government Policy of Multiculturalism
Curriculum through a Canadian citizenship lens often highlights the challenge of better relations between citizens by ensuring both inclusion and equality in the nation. Canada has unique national precedents for developing this as a primary educational focus. Multiculturalism has been a predominant theme in education since the Royal Commission on Bilingualism and
Biculturalism was established (1963-1969) and arguably the Commission’s report became the first official government stance on multiculturalism in Canada. This nationally recognized 150
distinctness of the cultural mosaic of Canada, with “brightly colored bits of ethnicity, culture, racial identity and language embedded side by side” (Schneider, 1998, para 1) has encapsulated the positive image of co-existence which allows individuals to retain their cultural identity in the belief that the country is stronger as a result of this diversity. While there is no question that early government policies with respect to Canadian immigrants were primarily assimilationist, the move to a mosaic as the predominant national image is often contrasted with the United
States adoption of the melting pot metaphor which reflects an emphasis on the importance of assimilation.
This image of the mosaic has been subject to critique, including the early categorization of Canada as being a “vertical mosaic” by John Porter (1965). Porter claimed that maintaining these distinctions simply encouraged social and ethnic inequity and enabled class divisions in
Canadian society to flourish. One group identified as being amongst the most disadvantaged in his study of Canadian society was French speaking Canadians. The political reaction in Ottawa was immediate. The Official Languages Act became law in 1969, making Canada an officially bilingual nation. However, two years later, Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau introduced the 1971
Multiculturalism policy into the House of Commons, effectively splitting from the recommendations of Prime Minister Pearson’s Royal Commission on Bilingualism and
Biculturalism. While this move was touted to be the honourable high road, commentators at the time argued the Prime Minister Trudeau’s decision was in reality a shrewd political move aimed at supporting liberal politicians representing constituents not reflected in either of the English or
French divide. The 1971 official government policy stated: “Multiculturalism was intended to preserve the cultural freedom of individuals and provide recognition of the cultural contributions of diverse ethnic groups to Canadian society” (Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21, 151
undated). Although Trudeau continued work to guarantee that bilingualism was protected, and official language rights are included in sections 16-23 of the Charter, the impact of the 1971 policy ensured that Canada continued to pursue multiculturalism rather than biculturalism and multiculturalism is now legally protected and enshrined in section 27 of the Charter: “This
Charter shall be interpreted in a manner consistent with the preservation and enhancement of the multicultural heritage of Canadians” and in the Canadian Multiculturalism Act, R.S.C.,
1985, c.24, which sets out (emphasis added) that:
3 (1) It is hereby declared to be the policy of the Government of Canada to
(a) recognize and promote the understanding that multiculturalism reflects the cultural and racial diversity of Canadian society and acknowledges the freedom of all members of Canadian society to preserve, enhance and share their cultural heritage;
(b) recognize and promote the understanding that multiculturalism is a fundamental characteristic of the Canadian heritage and identity and that it provides an invaluable resource in the shaping of Canada’s future; …
(g) promote the understanding and creativity that arise from the interaction between individuals and communities of different origins;
(h) foster the recognition and appreciation of the diverse cultures of Canadian society and promote the reflection and the evolving expressions of those cultures; …
Despite initial skepticism or critique of the federal policy, what is truly noteworthy, is how quickly multiculturalism became so embedded in the Canadian political psyche to the point that it enshrined in the Constitution Act, 1982. In fact, “multiculturalism went from being the bold idea of a few ethnic organizations in 1965 to the supreme law of the land in 1982 and has 152
since been reaffirmed in 1988 and 1997 with only minor changes in emphasis” (Banting &
Kymlicka, 2010, 51). The official policy of multiculturalism is not just a ‘feel good’ sentiment, but is adhered to in practice, for despite formidable challenges Canada continues to admit a large number of immigrants and refugees each year. During the past two decades, leaders in many other countries have experienced a clear backlash against multiculturalism policies and a growing alarm at the lack of national social cohesion. The dominant narrative in Europe, for example, is that multiculturalism has been tried and has failed. The overwhelming European sentiment is to return to an increased emphasis on adherence to the dominant culture as this is considered once again the preferable approach. If newcomers are admitted, then they must assimilate by giving priority to their new national identity (Banting & Kymlicka, 2010). To date,
Canada has avoided this global trend. Of particular note is that Canada, despite having one of the highest proportions of new immigrants relative to host populations in the world, has given no indication that this open-door policy will change in the near future. In fact, the current federal government has stated its intention to take in over 1 million additional immigrants in the next three years, totalling 1,080,000 new permanent residents between 2019 and 2021 (Government of Canada, 2018).
Citizenship discourses take on an increasingly important role as educators endeavour to address the many-faceted demands of a multicultural society as well as an increasingly diverse student body. The cultural composition of Canada continues to change, and this must be recognized and expressed through educational policies as well as practices in schools and classrooms (Joshee et al., 2010). Therefore Maryam Nabavi (2010) identifies the need to
“[interrogate] the varied identities, the ideological premises, concepts and goals of citizenship education” (2010, p. 1) to ensure that the diverse needs of these new immigrants are being met, 153
and to make sure citizenship education continues to be informed by the political and legal commitment to multiculturalism. Although not yet proclaimed as a law, the decision to change the wording of the Citizenship Oath, so that new Canadians will make a solemn commitment to respect Indigenous and Treaty rights for First Nations, Inuit and Métis Peoples, is significant.
Senator Murray Sinclair, the former TRC Chair applauded this proposal because:
Reconciliation requires that a new vision, based on a commitment to mutual
respect, be developed. Part of that vision is encouraging all Canadians, including
newcomers, to understand the history of First Nations, the Métis and the Inuit,
including information about the treaties and the history of the residential schools,
so that we all honour the truth and work together to build a more inclusive Canada
(Sinclair in Harris, 2019, para 12)
Amending the Citizenship Oath, not only follows through on a recommendation in the
TRC Calls to Action (2015), it also raises awareness in new Canadians of the importance of Indigenous rights, culture and contributions made to a shared history in this country.
The Oath reaffirms the commitment of all Canadians to respect fundamental rights and responsibilities of citizenship founded on principles of inclusion contained within the early ‘peace and friendship’ treaties and this is an important aspect of reconciliation.
4.2.3 Canadian Constitution as a ‘Living Tree’
The overarching constitutional aims within the national framework of Canada are ‘peace, order and good government.’ This is in stark contrast to the United States Constitution which guarantees ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ It appears Canada may have been short- changed, particularly given the switch by the British government of the proposed wording of the
Constitution Act, 1867 when the word ‘order’ was substituted for the requested term ‘fairness’ 154
(Saul, 2008). However, Canada is fortunate in that its superior court, the Supreme Court of
Canada (SCC), has adopted the “living tree” doctrine, a way to interpret Canada’s constitutional documents that enables ongoing adaptation to societal changes. This doctrine achieves a balance between the two seemingly contradictory goals of predictability and flexibility (Centre for
Constitutional Studies, 2014, para 1-2). In this way, citizens can be reassured that their activities will be governed without rigidity so that the guidance rendered by the courts is not obsolete nor only applicable to a bygone era. The living tree metaphor was first introduced in 1929 in the case of Edwards et.al. v. Canada, commonly known as the “Persons Case,” as it took an appeal to the highest court to determine that women were, in fact, ‘persons’ and were therefore eligible to sit in the Canadian Senate. Justice Sankey on behalf of the court stated: “The B.N.A. Act
(Constitution Act, 1867) planted in Canada a living tree capable of growth and expansion within its natural limits … (we desire) to give it a large and liberal interpretation” (Edwards et.al. v.
Canada, pp. 106-107). The SCC confirmed their continued willingness to address societal changes in Reference: Re. Same Sex Marriage (2004), by expanding the traditional definition of marriage to include the union of same sex partners. Chief Justice McLachlin rendering the decision on behalf of the court, determined that s.91(26) of the Constitution Act, 1867 did not forever entrench the concept of marriage as it stood in 1867:
Canada is a pluralistic society. Marriage, from the perspective of the state, is a
civil institution. The ‘frozen concepts’ reasoning runs contrary to one of the most
fundamental principles of Canadian constitutional interpretation: that our
Constitution is a living tree which, by way of progressive interpretation,
accommodates and addresses the realities of modern life. (Reference: Re. Same
Sex Marriage, 2004, 710, para 22) 155
In contrast, the judiciary in the United States are divided as to whether or not the constitution is a
‘living document’ which can be expanded to meet to new circumstances. This division over
Constitutional application to contemporary issues in the U.S.A is particularly controversial in an era where judicial activism is negatively portrayed in the media. There is no equivalent mindset in the Canadian judiciary that would constrain their interpretation of the Constitution or their use of the Charter to strike down contemporary laws that are found to infringe on the constitutional rights of Canadians. This has helped consolidate the metaphor of the ‘living tree’ doctrine. Of equal, or perhaps even greater, importance is the general acceptance of Canadian citizens that a legal framework is meant to grow with the times and thereby reflect changes in society. Reliance on court decisions to resolve controversial issues of national importance has increasingly become the norm in Canada. Ongoing legal discourse continues to set a direction for the nation as well as encouraging ongoing grassroots advocacy for changing laws and government policies, all of which needs to be reflected in citizenship education.
As a result of the constitutional recognition of Aboriginal (Indigenous) Peoples’ rights and multiculturalism, as well as the adoption of the living tree doctrine of constitutional interpretation, Canadian citizenship is complex. Student’s understanding of individual rights and collective citizenship responsibilities in light of these exceptional constitutional provisions has been further complicated by the recent political and legal recognition of the need to address the traumatic past. To explore the meaning of Canada as a nation in an educational context in light of these grievances against the state requires a “disestablishment of the narratives, epistemic authority, representational prerogatives and normative identities that have legitimated inequitable and discriminatory political and social relationships” (Henderson & Wakeham, 2013, 15). For past discriminatory practices to be challenged, curriculum pertaining to citizenship needs to be 156
based on more than mere memory work or a passive adoption of state-approved civic truths.
Educators and students need to engage in critical analysis of the past, as well as understand the present context with a vision for the future, so they are ready to address the question: What kind of citizen? In this way, the question of citizenship ceases to be an academic exercise that is interesting in theory but of little consequence in real life. Instead, the exploration of citizenship has real consequences in terms of envisioning the kind of society educators and students, as citizens, hope to create (Westheimer, 2015, p. 2).
4.3 Canada’s Unique Position Vis-à-vis Citizenship Education
So, what exactly is citizenship education? According to the UN:
Citizenship education can be defined as educating children, from early childhood
to become clear-thinking and enlightened citizens who participate in decisions
concerning society. ‘Society’ is here understood in the special sense of a nation
with a circumscribed territory which is recognized as a state. (UNESCO, 2010,
para 1)
Citizenship education is not monolithic and changes over time in response to the predominant features of each era’s specific concerns. In recent years, the dynamic character of curriculum has reflected a greater emphasis on global economic competitiveness and the development of the student as future worker. This emphasis is considered a regrettable direction by many educators
(Levine, 2012; Pinar, 2019; Doll (Wang, 2016)). Other academics (Bull, 2008) acknowledge that economic considerations, while these should not be determinative of the curriculum, cannot be entirely ignored because such aims may provide students with valuable options in the future.
However, the primary focus of citizenship education remains the necessary knowledge, skills and
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attitudes respecting what UNESCO calls the responsibilities of the state and the rights of the individual.
One final comment about citizenship education as it is taught in Canadian schools is the recognition that it encompasses considerable variation due to the provincial and territorial control of curriculum. While encouraging a prescribed nationalistic sentiment has often been touted as essential because of the high numbers of immigrants, such prescription is next to impossible, due to the constitutional constraints that prohibit federal involvement in education (Hughes & Sears,
2008; Nabavi, 2010). While citizenship education has been considered vital throughout Canada’s history, the nation’s constitution inhibits the formation of a unique Canadian national identity.
Citizenship is “taught not from the national viewpoint, but from the provincial … (and)
‘Canadianization’ lacked a clear and commonly understood definition” (Richardson, 2002, 60).
Historically, Canadian citizenship education drew on Britain and common-law references due to the fact that the government was a constitutional monarchy even through the United States has also had a significant influence. The dual domination of the colonial connections to Great Britain and a border with the USA, an increasingly powerful and culturally influential country, have mitigated against the creation of a home-grown Canadian identity. Due to this dual impact of the former (British) and subsequent (United States) world powers, Canada, like many former colonies, came to occupy a kind of third space:
For post-colonial theorist Homi K. Bhabha, one of the consequences of
imperialism has meant that, in an intellectual sense, colonizing and colonized
people have been brought together in what he terms the third space a space that is
both synthetic and dynamic, one that is continually in a process of hybridity.
(Bhabha in Richardson, 2002, p. 65) 158
Existing in the shadows, first as a colony of Britain and then by sharing a border with a dominant world behemoth, led to the lynchpin theory which allowed Canada to capitalize on its lack of strong identity to play a strong international role of peace-keeper. Being placed between two super powers, Canada essentially developed a contingent and tentative sense of nationalism
(Richardson, 2002, p. 68). Therefore, the creation of a single national narrative, even with the laudable aim of improving social cohesion has been and remains beyond the scope of Canadian citizenship education. However, a counter-argument may be made that it is precisely the lack of a federal presence, allowing for a more localized approach, that fundamentally supports the strength in diversity which may be responsible for the perpetuation of the inimitable cultural mosaic in Canada.
4.4 Four Identified Aims of Citizenship Education
Citizenship education is multifaceted, and each vision of citizenship is made manifest in attempting to address the question: “What kind of citizen do we need to support an effective democratic society?” (Westheimer, 2015, p. 38). Different responses to this question reflect a
“diversity of perspectives [which] occurs because the stakes are so high. Having an opinion on what makes a ‘good citizen’ is really another way of conveying one’s idea about what makes a good society” (Westheimer, 2015, p. 42). In studies conducted by Westheimer & Kahane
(2004b) student outcomes were found to be connected to the curriculum aims identified by citizenship educators. This research highlights the importance of clearly articulating the reasons for engaging in citizenship education because curriculum aims impact not only what occurs in the classroom but also what happens to students after, when they engage with the ‘real’ world.
Academics have attempted to categorize citizenship education in various ways
(Westheimer, 2015; Noddings, 2013, Bull, 2008; Westheimer & Kahane, 2004b). However, for 159
the purposes of this study, divisions of citizenship education based on student outcomes do not lend themselves easily to a consideration of the inclusion of the history of residential schools in the curriculum. Pre-determining student outcomes in citizenship education is problematic and this is particularly the case when including the study of the traumatic past. Therefore, based on a review of the academic literature, the focus is on curriculum content and four distinct areas of citizenship education were identified to allow for an in-depth consideration of the inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum. Of course, from the perspective of the educator and students, these four theoretical divisions based on content may not be readily apparent in practice. Educational experiences offered may use a mixed approach that connects or combines a couple, or even all, of the content areas without any distinctions being made between these four categories. Such a multi-faceted approach would not be unusual. However, teasing apart these strands of citizenship education related to content is helpful to understand how the inclusion of the traumatic past might alter citizenship education. These four content areas are briefly identified and described, followed by a more in-depth consideration of each in light of the mandate to include the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum.
1) Democratic Citizenship Education – the knowledge, skills and attitudes which relate to membership in society and which concern the individual as a member of a political and legal collective. The primary focus is on the connection of both rights and responsibilities to one’s role as a citizen vis-à-vis the functioning of the state and democratic systems of governance;
2) Human Rights Education – an appreciation of inherent human rights, which includes both understanding one’s own rights and identity as well as the personal responsibilities owed to other members of a designated community which can include a global citizenship perspective.
Content respecting inherent human rights and the protection of these individual rights in daily 160
life within society may include subject matter relating to the securing and enforcement of these rights as well as fostering a sense of belonging to a wider community;
3) Social Justice Education – entails an understanding of social issues through a critique of society, particularly the political, economic and legal structures that support the status quo, as well as an appreciation of one’s personal agency and the need for, and efficacy of, personal engagement in promoting the positive transformation of society. The focus of such curriculum content is on initiating a rationale or desire for greater equality and instilling a belief that it is possible to make positive systemic changes through meaningful activism; and
4) Interpersonal Relations & Engagement With the “Other” – highlights the knowledge, skills and attitudes with respect to interacting with others in a more positive way as a citizen. Such study can encompass SEL or social emotional learning (CASEL, 2019), inter- personal and intra-cultural education (Dimitrov & Haque, 2016), conflict resolution (LeBaron &
Pillay, 2006; LeBaron, 2003) restorative justice (Evans & Vaandering, 2016; Lederach, 2014;
Pakan, 2007), peace education and non-violence (Wang, 2019; 2009) as well as the acquisition of other personal attributes (dispositions and/or behaviours) relating to good citizenship.
Curriculum content may also be aimed at enhancing empathetic understanding so that an individual is able to interact with others in society in a way that facilitates positive communal living. In recent years the focus on safe and caring schools as well as anti-bullying campaigns and the importance of being an active rather than passive bystander when an individual or group is victimized in society (Staub, 2015) would fit within this category of curriculum content. In addition, subject matter relating to the study of social media and on-line interpersonal communications such as cyber-safety, privacy as well as enhancing the civility of on-line
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discourse has been added based on the concepts of moral education for digital citizens
(D’Olimpio, 2019) and other aspects of ‘digital citizenship’ (Kane, Ng-A-Fook, et.al., 2016).
To reiterate, in contrast to other approaches in the study of citizenship education, these four areas are grouped and considered entirely by content making no assumption that the course content inexorably leads to identifiable or intended outcomes. In juxtaposition to this, other approaches may be adopted which outline very specific and quite detailed in terms of both objectives and student outcomes. One example, Joel Westheimer identifies, is that in order “to solve social problems and improve society citizens must have good character” (Westheimer,
2015, p. 39) and the participatory citizen is expected to demonstrate these traits of ‘good character’ through their honesty, responsibility, and compliance with the law (being law- abiding). However, this approach not only assumes that there is agreement as to what the quintessential citizenship character traits are, it fails to question whether a person’s character can actually be changed through curriculum input (i.e. becoming more honest) or that compliance with all laws (including inequitable ones) is really indicative of ‘good character’ or a positive citizenship trait. In contrast, identifying a category of personal development content that relates to citizenship, such as teaching the skills of conflict resolution or SEL, or encouraging the acquisition of attributes such as empathetic understanding does not assume the specific impact
(or outcomes) of such curriculum content on individual students.
Focusing on content rather than on outcomes is a vitally important distinction because as
Bull (2008) maintains, identifying the outcomes of democratic citizenship education in advance may itself be antithetical to democratic education by pre-determining what is ‘good’ in an authoritarian way. Such a prescriptive approach can limit the personal liberty of individual students who may feel fettered in the discovery or determination of their own personal 162
perception of the public good and in making informed choices as to the manner or extent of political involvement in society as a citizen. Again, this approach on content rather than outcomes is in contrast to Westheimer (2015) who identifies the characteristics of three kinds of citizens: 1) the personally responsible citizen; 2) the participatory citizen; and 3) the social justice-oriented citizen (Westheimer, 2015, 38-39; Westheimer & Kahane, 2004b) with the matching of each of these visions of citizenship with a detailed set of curriculum goals and specified behaviours. Ng-A-Fook (2010) utilizes this analysis to consider curriculum initiatives in Ontario schools and by adopting this approach, behaviours become the central determinant of the aims espoused. An example drawn from Westheimer (2015) illustrates this focus on behavioural objectives in citizenship education where volunteering or contributing to food banks is categorized as the “Personally responsible citizen” versus the “Participatory citizen” who organizes the food drive or the “Social justice-oriented citizen” who questions why people in society were hungry. The use of behavioural categorizations could be considered questionable based on the Orwellian element of tying observable outcomes to societal objectives. However, it is sufficient in this instance, to simply identify that the Westheimer approach is of limited value in considering the study of the traumatic past in the curriculum and the effect this may have upon citizenship education. To reiterate, the four areas of citizenship curriculum identified here are all based on content which may include certain expectations for students although these are not directly tied to specified actions of citizenship. In terms of ‘educating children for the common good,’ Nel Noddings acknowledges aims are of vital importance when it comes to setting direction, but she is careful to caution that in identifying aims, there should be no corresponding attempt to measure these according to expected observable behaviours because it is important not to essentialize outcomes: “Aims, properly defined, guide our thinking. We should not try to 163
translate them directly into goals and objectives that can be measured numerically. Rather we examine everything we do in schools in light of the stated aim” (Noddings, 2015, pp. 44-45).
While aims are not necessarily determinative they are influential therefore the rationale for the inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum, and the traumatic past, will be considered in light of how it informs citizenship education based solely on a connection to the four unique content areas identified under the umbrella of citizenship education, with no corresponding emphasis on specific observable goals or designating at this time potential
‘measurement’ criteria.
4.5 Practices in Democratic and Indigenous Education
In addition to being identified as subject matter content, democratic education is unique in also being an educational practice which supports the realization of democratic principles. An example of the application of democratic ideals is found in the late 1850’s when Leo Tolstoy established a free school for the children of peasants run on egalitarian principles (Simmons,
1968). In 1912, when he was the director of Dom Sierot, an orphanage in Warsaw, Janusz
Korczak (aka Henryk Goldszmit) also developed a model of democratic education based on his belief in the importance of children’s freedom and autonomy. The orphanage, which included an orphan’s parliament and newspaper, operated on democratic principles until 1940 when Korczak accompanied his students on the train to the Treblinka extermination camp. Summerhill, initially established in Germany in 1921 by A.S. Neill (1960) and later relocated to Southern England, similarly operated on the basis of respect for student autonomy, freedom and self-government.
Students were not required to attend classes and there was no pre-determined curriculum to be studied. The open or free school movement popularized in the 1960’s and 1970’s in the United
States used Summerhill as a model for infusing democratic principles in educational practice. 164
While all of these initiatives were important experiments in democratic education, the most influential writer in North America is unquestionably John Dewey. Particularly in Democracy and Education (2004/1916), Dewey developed a philosophy of progressive education based on democratic principles where he argued that children must not only learn about democracy but also experience democracy. Dewey was an early advocate of inquiry education maintaining that students’ questions and interests should be allowed to shape the curriculum rather than simply giving students the same pre-determined curriculum in what has been called the “factory model” of education. Although the metaphor is altered this additive approach is similar to a concept termed the “banking” concept of education (Friere, 2006/1970) where the educational task is to fill students up with curriculum whether or not what is being taught is relevant to, or connects with, current realities of students.
In consideration of ‘how’ education is offered, as well as the world view presented, there has been extensive critique of current educational methods and the need to reframe education to incorporate Indigenous Peoples’ knowledge as well as educational practices. Several authors
(Battiste, 2013; Kanu, 2011; Styres, 2017) argue that post-colonial education needs to reflect more diverse voices and perspectives in order to challenge much of what is done in mainstream education. In this respect, Marie Battiste (2013) maintains that the current curriculum reflects state approved standards as to what counts as knowledge and only legitimizes certain
(Eurocentric Western) ways of knowing. The content and methods that are prescribed or sanctioned establish “one main stream, a culturally imperialistic stream that ignores or erodes, if not destroys, other ways of knowing or the accumulated knowledge of some groups” (Battiste,
2013, p. 104). Yet such cultural imperialism is rarely seen much less challenged by educators.
Curriculum content and teaching methods are perceived as neutral, ‘as if’ these were the result of 165
a depoliticized process and had “no history, politic, or community significance, and is not complicit with the diminishing, derogatory past” (Battiste, 2013, p. 106). While there have been recent efforts to rectify glaring omissions in the curriculum respecting the history and culture of
Indigenous Peoples and adopt more wholistic educational practices, such as the First Peoples
Principles of Learning (Gov. of BC, 2018), the factory model, or the more recent corporate facsimile of education, continues to dominate as the driving force of school reform or ‘deform’
(Pinar, 2019). Despite attempts to revive authentic inquiry-oriented democratic education, these efforts to thwart the standards movements tend to be overwhelmed by the increasing focus on testing and the obsession with international competitiveness. This authoritarian, ‘top-down’ approach threatens all forms of education, but most particularly the social sciences like citizenship education, with what has been called “the test scores that ate humanity” (Westheimer,
2015, 30). Such overemphasis on standards and accountability results in an intellectually emaciated curriculum that circumscribes thinking about education for democracy due to the diminished value attributed to any educational activity that standardized testing does not measure. Curriculum that introduces the traumatic past to students is not well served by a concentration on measurement and pre-determined testable outcomes. It is somewhat heartening that the Canadian Principals Association (CPA) in 2007, took the unusual step of issuing a statement of concern regarding student testing and its impact on thinking and learning identifying that educators and administrators, “are increasingly concerned that current policies and practices on student testing are leading to … [an] unintended shift of priorities to focus on a narrow range of student knowledge and literacy/numeracy skills” (CPA in Westheimer, 2015, p.
29). Democratic education as a practice, even more than the content of the curriculum, is especially vulnerable to being thwarted by contemporary prescriptive approaches in education. 166
4.6 Democratic Education
Democratic education is the traditional content area of citizenship education which involves studying the establishment and operational features of the primary political and legal structures of a given society. In Canada, this includes an introduction to the constitutional monarchy and the separation of powers into the three branches of governance: the executive
(executing and enforcing the laws); the legislative (making the laws) and the judicial
(interpreting the laws). Rights and responsibilities, as these relate to the citizen vis-à-vis the state, and the accompanying practices that support a democracy such as voting, are also likely to be included. Substantive knowledge may be accompanied by practical instruction, or at least a theoretical comprehension, of how citizens can become politically engaged within the existing system. UNESCO identities that at a minimum participation as a citizen requires “knowledge of the nation’s institutions, and also an awareness that the rule of law applies in social and human relationships (as both) obviously form part of any citizenship education course” (2010, para 1-2).
Democratic education may include a review of Western-European history relating to the evolution of the underlying principles and pivotal moments in the centuries-old struggle to establish democracies. Such study assists students to appreciate the core principles of a democracy with roots in ancient Greece to more recent times, such as the ‘social contract’ (John
Locke); separation of powers (Baron de Montesquieu); right to representative government
(Rousseau); universal suffrage (John Stuart Mill); civil liberties; and free and fair elections.
Open, accountable and responsible government and the rule of law were achieved only after individual proponents were supported by the populace, who fought for these rights against those in power. Democratic literacy grounds students’ understanding of the system as it exists now,
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how it developed and introduces foundational concepts respecting the legal and political framework in Canada today.
Generally, curricula respecting principles of democratic governance are premised on nineteenth century modernism and the abstract idea of a social contract existing between the people and the nation state. The education system plays a key role in the manufacture of this national identity by melding the private interests of the citizen with the general aims of the state and “this functional aspect of education, particularly of the disciplines of history and social studies, has remained essentially unchanged for more than seventy years” (Richardson, 2002,
51). The basis of legitimate authority is that it is consented to and delegating such authority makes sense if there is confidence (trust) that this designated body will act fairly and make reasonable decisions on behalf of those who have delegated the decision-making power. This relationship between the state and the citizens is foundational to understanding democratic structures.
However, from the beginning Indigenous and settler societies had a clash of cultures based on very different traditions of justice and governance. Indigenous Peoples were self- governing nations prior to first contact and had been for thousands of years and initially
Europeans dealt with Indigenous Peoples on a fairly equal basis (Vowel, 2016, p. 243; Saul,
2008). Early agreements or treaties created between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people (such as the Two-Row Wampum) were established to encourage trade and peaceful co-existence.
The report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples noted that for some
time after settler contact, the relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal
peoples had been one of mutual support, co-operation, and respect. Despite
incidents of conflict, Aboriginal peoples’ acceptance of the arrival of Europeans, 168
and their willingness to participate with the newcomers in their economic pursuits,
to form alliances with them in their wars, and to enter into Treaty with them for a
variety of purposes, showed a wish to coexist in a relationship of mutual trust and
respect (an) … aspect of the relationship was confirmed on the non-Aboriginal
side by evidence such as the Royal Proclamation of 1763 and the Treaty of
Niagara of 1764. (TRC Final Report, 2015, p. 212)
The fact that the trust initially established in these early treaties was ultimately betrayed and relationships soured between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people merits attention in citizenship education as these changes over time reflect a shifting power imbalance and subsequent ill-treatment of the ‘Other’. Presenting historic examples helps illustrate the very real fallibility of democratic institutions. Indian residential schools are an excellent example of how the unchallenged power of the state enabled the majority, through its representatives, to infringe on the rights of minorities, and to inflict untold suffering on the most vulnerable citizens in society. The contradiction between the positive image in the national consciousness of Canada as an exemplary democratic country, as peacekeeper and defender of the vulnerable, is a stark contrast to this reality of the traumatic past where settlers betrayed the trust of Indigenous
Peoples. Students who are introduced to the origins of Canada as a colonial power are presented with troubling subject matter in citizenship education. Although this early betrayal of minorities and those who are therefore vulnerable to the majority, can offer insights into the need to be rigorous in order to ensure democratic institutions in society are held to a high standard by the citizenry. Studying the history of Indian residential schools and the acts of oppression that occur when democratic institutions fail to function as intended may act as an impetus to students, as future citizens, to be ever-vigilant to ensure democratic principles are upheld in society and if 169
there are failures to accept the responsibility of addressing the consequences. In this way, a portrayal of the traumatic past and a “reframing of experiences has the potential to radically change one’s world view” (Million, 2013, p. 169) by perceiving the need to address past wrongs through reparations and attending to systemic inequities. Such actions are not solely for the benefit of those who suffered from discriminatory treatment or unlawful abuse because rectifying injustice restores public confidence in the overall structures of society. Therefore, governments need to acknowledge reprehensible conduct in order to begin to restore trust so that society can accept responsibility for repairing the harms that continue into the present. Such reparation bolsters a healthy and functional democratic system. Addressing the past “sullying of the very tenets of Canadian citizenship” (Cho, 2013, p. 87) is ultimately in Canada’s own best interest.
Much of the historic and present conflict between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people is rooted in the imposition of a Euro-Canadian worldview over other perspectives, which is “an extreme form of oppression” (Moore, 2017, p. 48). The Canadian political and legal systems were found to be not only foreign but completely untrustworthy as all institutions of the state, courts, and police were complicit in the subjugation of Indigenous Peoples. This betrayal of trust was most evident in the Indian Act that effectively controlled all aspects of life (Joseph, 2018).
Any attempt of Indigenous Peoples to organize or challenge this situation was strictly prohibited despite the fact that this was in direct contradiction to the principles of freedom of association and access to justice which are fundamental to a democratic society. Therefore, even accounting for the tragic systemic abuse of physical and sexual harm and the emotional neglect of young children who were taken from their parents with the aim of assimilation, in many ways:
Residential schools were not the solitary cause of social breakdown amongst
Aboriginal people. Rather they were the closing punctuation mark … (to a) 170
message that had been delivered in almost every way imaginable, and it touched
every aspect of traditional social organization. Nothing was exempt … (including)
dispute resolution, decision making clan organization and community governance
… even the law added its voice to the degradation, making it illegal to … vote in
Canadian elections, hold a potlatch … hire a lawyer to even ask a court to force
governments to honour their treaty obligations. (Ross, 2006, p. 46)
In citizenship education these historic events raise a serious question: How could institutions essential to a democratic government system have purposely harmed vulnerable children by removing them from their parents and communities with the aim of forced assimilation and comprised of actions now defined by the UN as the commission of cultural genocide?
It is possible, and arguably necessary, to provide balance to this entirely negative portrayal of democratic institutions by referencing more recent events such as the establishment of the TRC which demonstrates a willingness on the part of government to address past injustices and “move the relationship forward on a clean moral slate” (Turner, 2013, p. 100).
While the TRC, as part of a class action lawsuit settlement agreement, could not encompass all historic injustices, it was able to fulfil its valuable educational mandate by documenting past crimes and giving a voice to the Survivors. In sharing their story, their experience of the past trauma, Survivors were given the opportunity to speak truth to power in a public forum. These narratives revealed what had happened to Indigenous Peoples and the TRC processes legitimized their understanding of the traumatic past in ways that reflected and respected Indigenous world views. By telling these stories, a new and more hopeful story could emerge providing a way forward where national history narratives include Canadian citizens confronting the colonial damage that has occurred (Million, 2013, p. 160). Canadians have much to “learn and do” and of 171
equal important much to “unlearn and undo” (Rogers in Joseph, 2018, para 2). Citizens are responsible for confronting the damage inflicted by past colonial policies and the failure of the nation’s democratic institutions to protect vulnerable children.
Reconciliation is an ongoing process: healing past wounds, addressing current harms, moving the relationship forward, and asserting the essential integrity of Indigenous nations.
Therefore, “reconciliation, if it is to become a reality, is necessarily political” (Turner, 2013, p.
110), for “the TRC did not call for only the residential school legacy to be taught to all people in
Canada” (Vowel, 2016, p. 178, emphasis added). It must be understood that for the “Canadian government to face up formally to its past actions and attitudes” is no small thing (Epp, 2008,
137). The next step, in order to enter into a new relationship, requires students, as future citizens, to not only learn about, and reflect upon, these harmful events in Canada’s past, but of equal if not greater importance they must be encouraged to envision a future that transcends the historical injustices which haunt the nation and shape the current context. Creating a future vision out of a better understanding of the traumatic past and using this to guide present action resonates with the curriculum conversation conceived as currere (Pinar, 2004) based on “recognizing the significance of the past, the meaning of the present and the expectation of a future as complicated conversation” (Autio, 2017, p. 4).
Currently Canada’s legal and political institutions remain firmly entrenched in a Western liberal-rights framework. Thus, from an Indigenous perspective many recent political policies and much contemporary discourse seem to differ only in appearance, but not in actual substance, from the historic, colonial relationship (Vowel, 2016, pp. 126-129). In fact, some Indigenous scholars believe that the politics of reconciliation in Canada simply diverts attention away from the underlying question of land claims and recognition of a nation-to-nation relationship: 172
I challenge the idea that the colonial relationship between Indigenous peoples and
the Canadian state can be significantly transformed via a politics of recognition …
models of liberal pluralism that seek to reconcile Indigenous claims to nationhood
with Crown sovereignty via the accommodation of Indigenous identities in some
form of renewed relationship with the Canadian state … [promise] to reproduce
the very configurations of colonial power that Indigenous peoples’ demands for
recognition have historically sought to transcend. (Coulthard in Hill & McCall,
2015, p. ix)
If the current version of Canadian legal and political institutions is presented as the only possible manifestation of governance or legal authority in a democratic nation, the TRC’s hope of encouraging a broader mindset in citizenship education—a precondition to reconciliation—is undermined. In fact, “a school curriculum that teaches one unified, unquestioned version of
‘truth’ is one of the hallmarks of totalitarian societies” (Westheimer, 2015, p. 12). Clearly assuming there is only one legitimate structure for legal and political institutions in society is a restrictive, if not antithetical, message for democratic citizenship education. While students need to learn about citizenship in the nation as it currently exists, there could be an even deeper appreciation of democracy by considering how society might be organized differently. For example, what might a democratic government based on collective land ownership look like? Or what might citizenship education entail if alternate legal and collective governance traditions were presented as not only a legitimate form of organization for Indigenous Peoples, but also for national consideration in the future. Contemplating these alternatives in relationships and societal structures opens up provocative possibilities in reconciliation conversations.
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Recognizing the right of Indigenous Peoples to self-governance within Canada and as well as nation-to-nation relationship would accord with initial agreements of co-existence such as the ‘two-row wampum belt’ (Reynolds, 2018). Such recognition is hard for most Canadians to envision much less accept. A further complication is that, “Canadian settler courts were not designed to act as bridges or mediators between European and Indigenous legal and governance systems” (MacDonald, 2019, p. 190). At a minimum, considering these broader options in citizenship education, beyond the study of current governance structures, has considerable merit as it envisions a future where Canada complies with all of its legal commitments to Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples. In order not to renege yet again on promises made to Indigenous
Peoples, section 35(1) of the Charter recognizes the original Indigenous treaties and their proper place as part of the Canadian constitution and supreme law. Understanding this nexus of
Indigenous and Western legal traditions needs to be at the core of citizenship education in
Canada. Although these two rights and responsibility regimes have distinct epistemologies and legal traditions, the judiciary are now required to find a way forward that gives a symbiotic reading of Canadian constitutional law with Aboriginal (Indigenous Peoples) law and treaty rights. Such a reading of the constitution entails acknowledging a sui generis treaty citizenship—
"a distinctive form of imperial alliance that recognizes Indigenous peoples’ autonomy and prevents their incorporation into a colonial national schema” (Henderson, 2013, p. 115). In practice, “the challenge for settlers will be not only accepting but also helping to roll back the power of the settler state so that Indigenous peoples have more unencumbered space to exercise self-determination and practice their laws and constitutional order in ways that work for them”
(MacDonald, 2019, p. 191).
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The most powerful impact to including a history of Indian residential schools in democratic education is that unlike other genocides that happened elsewhere, it happened here, to people in this country. Our Canadian democratic institutions expected to provide protection from abuse of power failed to safeguard citizens and in fact actively perpetuated the harm. Such failures are unsettling and require students to think carefully and critically about our history, colonization, and the use and abuse of power as well as their own responsibility as citizens to set things right. Throughout history people have struggled to achieve a better quality of life. Many generations experienced slow advances in democratic governance as well as disheartening, sometimes traumatic setbacks. This struggle to decolonize will similarly take time and ongoing commitment: “You need to accept that this is not going to happen in your lifetime, all you can do is get on the path and walk in the right direction” (Moore, 2017, p. 89). A history of Indian residential schools must necessarily focus on the victims and the failure of democratic institutions. However, Indigenous Peoples are not only victims of history, they are also
‘Survivors’, and balance can be provided to such subject matter if it is taught in conjunction with contemporary and pro-active actions being taken in recent years. One example is the successful fight of Indigenous Peoples to ensure that their inherent rights were enshrined in the Constitution
Act, 1982. A second example is the ongoing activism of Survivors in seeking legal recognition and compensation for the harms they suffered, that culminated in the settlement of the largest class action law suit in Canada and the establishment of the TRC. The securing of recognition and advancing of rights for Indigenous Peoples has required strong resistance and activism on their part and any “progress is owed to the courageous activists practicing their obligations to the land and to each other in these diverse networks and communities of struggle” (Coulthard, 2014, p. 168). Presenting evidence of advances made, and the ongoing resurgence in Indigenous 175
communities, offers a sense of balance called for by the TRC as well as many Indigenous scholars (Borrows & Tully, 2018; Dion & Dion, 2009; Sioui, 2019). Students will know there is
“another kind of historical acknowledgement, not of wrongs, but of the sheer survival of
Aboriginal communities with a degree of cultural continuity despite decades of government policies to the contrary” (Epp, 2008, p. 138). Many more examples of Indigenous Peoples’ resistance and resilience are evident in recent political and legal advances using democratic institutions such as the settling of outstanding land claims: Tla’amin Treaty, (British Columbia,
2016); Chapleau Cree (Ontario, 2016); Lubicon Lake Band (Alberta, 2018); Williams Treaties
(Ontario, 2018) etc., as well as several significant legal challenges launched by Indigenous
Peoples such as Sparrow v. The Queen (1990); Delgamuukw v. British Columbia (1997);
Tsilhqot’in Nation v. British Columbia (2014) etc., in addition to the many ongoing and settled court cases. A fundamental core to Indigenous resurgence of self-actualization and direct action are the continuing grassroots protest movements such as ‘Idle No More’ (Kino-nda-niimi
Collective, 2014) and the revitalized defence of Indigenous land, environmental protection and preservation of sovereignty rights in recent years:
Two theorists of Indigenous resurgence, Taiaiake Alfred and Leanne
Betasamosake Simpson … [offer] their significant contributions to our
understanding of the dynamics that shape settler-colonialism and Indigenous
decolonization in Canada … [and] the emergent Idle No More movement …
explore[s] what a resurgent decolonial politics might look like in practice.
(Coulthard, 2014, p. 154)
Studying the traumatic past, specifically the inclusion of a history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum, is a critical step forward if there is a balanced presentation, offering a more 176
complete understanding of contemporary Indigenous activism. Such subject matter has the potential to resonate with students, enhancing democratic education by highlighting the need to remain vigilant in protecting democratic rights and demonstrating that persistent activism is often essential to attain and maintain existing rights in society. Such resonance with students is critical to ensure citizens’ rights are protected in the future and there is a commitment to address the ongoing harms perpetrated by the colonial policies and past failures of democratic governance.
4.7 Human Rights Education
For much of Canada’s history, the rights associated with citizenship were based on
British justice and governance traditions. Political freedoms such as speech, association, assembly and the press, as well as the right to vote, religious freedom, and legal equality, were rights originally protected by the common-law and are now enshrined in the Charter (Clément,
2018). In the post-war era, a broader conception of inherent human rights and one’s responsibilities as a global citizen and member of a world community became important additions to citizenship education (Abdi, 2008; Canadian Teachers Federation, 2013; Noddings,
2004; UNESCO, n.d.). Human rights are now considered a critical aspect of citizenship education and form the second content area identified. State recognition of the inherent rights and freedoms of human beings has been the result of centuries of struggle, culminating in the
Universal Declaration of Human Rights by the United Nations. (1948) and signed by Canada in that same year. These rights are believed to be intrinsic to human beings, acquired by simply being born. Human rights are therefore not granted by the state or guaranteed within a given constitutional frame-work, although arguably without legal and political protection in some form by the nation, the realization of human rights cannot be assured.
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In Canada, the rights debate has had a profound impact on society because politicians and courts have needed to grapple with the rights of citizens. Arguably this ‘rights focus’ has been irrevocably linked to the history of Canada because “our shared collective experiences have produced the foundation for a dialogue to adjudicate our grievances using human rights talk”
(Clément, 2016, p. 149). A positive outcome of this unique rights culture is a continual expansion in the definition of human rights protection in the Constitution Act, 1982 and the
Charter, and in court decisions of the Supreme Court of Canada (SCC). Yet this rights culture can also be contentious and can heighten tensions due to the fact there is no national myth to unite this country. The reality is that throughout Canada’s history, and continuing until today, the federal government “struggles to reconcile within a single country, multiple nations with their own distinct ideas about rights” (Clément, 2016, p. 149). The challenges engendered by historic, ethnic, religious, language, culture and even geographic diversity, and the intense dialogue and deliberation that has resulted, has meant that Canada is constantly reinventing and arguably re- invigorating its rights culture. The repatriation of the Constitution and addition of the Charter provided unique protections by recognizing not only equality rights but also multiculturalism, minority language education rights and Aboriginal (Indigenous Peoples) rights within a single document. As a result, significant challenges have been identified by Dominique Clément (2016;
2018) including the ongoing yet subtle shift in rights discourse from an articulation of rights based on universal human rights arguments to what Clément calls particularistic human rights or legal claims on behalf of specific interest groups in society. An unintended consequence is that a much broader range of what could be categorized as substantially individual grievances are now framed as human rights disputes. Clément queries:
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What are the implications, therefore, of failing to distinguish between human
rights, which should be the highest possible claim upon our society and any
grievance that we feel is an injustice? … [this] rights inflation, the tendency to
frame almost any grievance as a rights violation, has transformed rights talk in
Canada. (Clément, 2018, pp. 2-3)
While human rights cases have been effective in responding to individual complaints of discrimination, this approach cannot necessarily address the systemic inequalities that cause the discrimination in the first place. For example, “although women and minorities successfully appropriated rights discourse to secure formal legal equality, these reforms were never transformative. They never addressed the underlying causes of inequality in our society”
(Clément, 2016, p. 150). One further concern is that conversations about societal issues are now frequently framed as claims arising from rights and as a result societal discourse and citizen input are frequently trumped by legal debate and deference to court decisions.
Despite these challenges, human rights have increasingly become the primary language of change in Canadian society with equality rights being explicitly stated in the Charter or introduced into the common-law through decisions in landmark cases. Given the importance of the law and the active role the court has played in defining human rights in Canada, citizenship education should include a significant focus on the law as well as a grounding in legal traditions.
The Charter is a corner-stone in the Canadian human rights framework because it is paramount to any other law (Charter, s.24). Nonetheless, there is still the political power to over-ride protected rights in certain instances (Charter, s.33). Therefore “human rights are not simply law; they are a dialogue … [and] our rights culture is constitutive of those rights that are deeply embedded in the practices of social and political life” (Clément, 2016, p. 2). For this reason 179
students, as future Canadian citizens, require an introduction to the already existing political conversation (Arendt, 2006) of human rights and the historical development of these rights.
Abuses that occurred in the operation of Indian residential schools amply demonstrate the need to monitor and restrain the considerable power of the state. For instance, in teaching about the traumatic past, the Holocaust is often taught from a human rights perspective (Moisan,
Hirsch & Audet, 2015). Students study genocidal actions on the part of the state:
from the standpoint of power, rights and legislation, as well as human dignity.
Relationships between the state and the citizens are central to this angle of study,
as is the role of citizens and organizations in safeguarding the rights and the full
citizenship of all individuals … [and] the Holocaust is presented as a radical
example of state racism and discrimination, as genocide. (Aitken & Radford,
2018, pp. 252-254)
Using the traumatic past in conjunction with human rights discourse, students can be encouraged to reflect on issues of pluralism, identity, and democratic citizenship (Aitken & Radford, 2018).
Students must be encouraged to better understand the importance as well as the limits of these relatively recent concepts. Universal human rights and ‘crimes against humanity’ have “ageless roots and foundations, [yet] these concepts are entirely young, at least as mechanisms of international law” (Derrida, 2009, p. 52). Arendt is referenced by Derrida in this discussion as political pragmatism often determines the extent of protection that is offered in reality given that enforcement requires a “limit of sovereignty (which) is only imposed where it is ‘possible’
(physically, militarily, economically), that is to say always imposed on small, relatively weak
States by powerful States” (Derrida, 2009, p. 52). Realistically there is a utilitarian aspect to the decision-making process. Often actions are taken by the global community to protect human 180
rights or decisions made to take a stand against crimes against humanity only to the extent it is determined to be expedient. The reasons to become involved are unfortunately most often based on a self-interested assessment of a nation’s economic or political agenda and not necessarily out of a concern for the victims. In the past, the world community has chosen not to act, even when it was to enforce existing UN Declarations or peace-keeping operations. The results of delay and inaction have often been horrific such as the genocide in Rwanda in 1994 (Dallaire, 2003); the
1995 ethnic ‘cleansing’ of Muslims in Bosnia (Crossette, 1999); ongoing massacres of Kurds
(Safi, 2019); or the recent internment and indoctrination of Uighurs in China (CBC, 2019).
Subsequent to Canada becoming a signatory to the UN resolutions respecting genocide
(1946) and human rights (1948), studying universal, inalienable human rights only gradually became a fixture in citizenship education. In order to encourage educators, the UN developed on- line curriculum resources on human rights and the Declaration of Human Rights (United
Nations, 1948). This declaration remains a vitally important document although it should be noted it is based on universalistic, Eurocentric, and individualistic principles. While both national and international statements of human rights are significant, Canadian students should also be introduced to the concept of Indigenous Peoples rights which have an entirely different origin and communal ethos. Studying the history of Indian residential schools reveals that at the core of this colonial endeavour was the imposition of a singular Eurocentric mindset to the exclusion of alternate worldviews. Presenting human rights as a key aspect of citizenship education requires broadening myopic worldviews and illustrating the unique nature of
Aboriginal (Indigenous Peoples’) rights in addition to, or even in contrast with, universal human rights.
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Indigenous Peoples’ rights arise from the ongoing struggle to have their customary practices and land ownership respected. These rights were not recognized by the UN until 2007 with The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), decades after the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. UNDRIP articulates rights that are by nature collective although they can be, and most often are, invoked by individuals on behalf of the collective. In Canada, Aboriginal rights are protected by the Charter (s.25), by s. 67 of the
Canadian Human Rights Act and in several SCC case decisions. The principle of self- determination and self-governance for Indigenous Peoples poses a unique challenge to Canada’s rights culture because discussions concerning collective rights do not easily fit within the
Western, liberal philosophical understanding of individualistic human rights (Clément, 2016, p.
151). This distinction between human rights and Indigenous rights is not simply academic or merely a legal nuance because arguments for universal human rights can, and have been used to, justify attacks on the legitimacy of Indigenous rights. An example can be found in Canadian history when the federal government proposed doing away with all Aboriginal and treaty rights in the infamous White Paper (Lagace & Sinclair, 2015) based on the argument that this action would help promote ‘equal’ human rights in Canadian society. Essentially,
in the late 60’s, the new Trudeau government, inspired in part by the civil rights
movement in the U.S. (and never appreciating that the structural position of
African-Americans in their struggle for equality was quite different than that of
Aboriginal Canadians in their struggle to protect their cultures), proposed a drastic
policy shift. At its core was removal of Aboriginal rights … a flash point for
Aboriginal activists. The White Paper proposed removing all legal and
Constitutional markers of Aboriginal difference in the interest of promoting 182
equality rights. Its practical effect would have been to remove Aboriginal rights,
the additional rights that Aboriginal people had by virtue of being prior occupants
of Canada. The struggle over the White Paper became a historical turning point.
(kulchyski, 2013, p. 83)
Another aspect regarding a human rights focus is that individual rights are often accorded the highest priority in society over any other moral, legal or political claims or considerations
(Donnelly, 2013). Such privileging of individual rights impacts not only the understanding of responsibilities as these correspond to rights but also this individualistic libertarian philosophy tends to undermine any consideration of collective rights in citizenship education. As noted,
Indigenous rights are additional to those rights which are considered ‘human rights,’ because the former are not universal, but territorial—intimately connected to the specificity of the original land. Both collective and Indigenous rights should therefore be considered as equally important aspects of citizenship education. Human rights protect individuals in society, including
Indigenous peoples, however human rights as articulated by the UN and Canadian Charter reflect a universalizing notion of humanity founded on the abstract principle that people are all the same. However, “Aboriginal rights, by contrast, are rights that only certain people and peoples, Indigenous peoples, have by virtue of being Indigenous” (Kulchyski, 2013, p. 21). Such rights includes the claim for Indigenous sovereignty which involves a connection to the land and customary rights. There is a greater emphasis on social collectives because each community has developed distinct cultural practices, including economic and political organization, traditional ecological knowledge, as well as unique language and other cultural aspects of the community such as story-telling and drum dancing.
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One excellent example of how the emphasis on inherent (individualistic) human rights can deflect from other ways of seeing the world, to the detriment of communal rights in society, is set out by Samuel Moyn (2018). In Moyn’s critique of how a selective focus on human rights has blinded citizens to the undermining of the welfare state he chronicles how important gains in human rights have overshadowed the increasing economic disparity in society and the advance of the neo-liberal political economy. While Moyn (2018) acknowledges that human rights are among the highest ideals and that these gains should be celebrated, this is only one aspect of social justice and the increasing focus on human rights and identity politics has masked a corresponding decline of distributive fairness which has been moved from being a central focus.
As a result, ‘economic’ social rights such as the entitlement to work, education, social assistance, health, housing and food security, have all been undervalued and consequently undermined. The prestige of human rights advances in law and the victories of the rights revolution disguised the distributional victories made by the rich (or the 1%) over the poor and middle class so that,
“human rights politics and law went some way to sensitizing humanity … but not to the crisis of national welfare, the stagnation of middle classes, and the endurance of global hierarchy” (Moyn,
2018, pp. xi-xii).
Drawing on this premise, a parallel argument could be made that the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum might lead to over-looking collective harms which are ongoing.
If the individual suffering of past victims is the primary focus of studying the history of Indian residential schools then the attention given to the ongoing harms such as the economic disparity of Indigenous communities that continue today, will be diminished. The TRC recognized the importance of learning about past harms from Survivors but they also identified the ongoing financial and community disadvantages inflicted by colonial systems. For, “in addition to the 184
emotional and psychological damage they inflicted, one of the most far-reaching and devastating legacies of residential schools has been their impact on the educational and economic success of
Aboriginal people” (TRC Final Report, 2015, p. 145). Therefore, rights education must present a broad picture because “reconciliation not only requires apologies, reparations, the relearning of
Canada’s national history, and public commemoration, but also needs real social, political, and economic change” (TRC Final Report, 2015, p. 184). The lack of consideration for the precursory social conditions as foundational to human rights can be found in the travesty of the water situation on reserves in Canada (Palmeter, 2019). In recognition of this human need:
[On] July 28, 2010, the United Nations General Assembly recognized that access
to clean drinking water and sanitation are essential to the realization of all human
rights (UN Resolution 64/292) yet the water crisis in First Nation’s communities
continues to be a chronic and well-known issue in Canada. (Vowel, 2016, p. 219)
This is just one example of how fundamental human needs are only gradually being recognized as ‘rights’ on the unfortunate basis, and inaccurate assumption, that human rights are unrelated to economic security. Another example is the Charter which does not accord any protection to basic economic rights much less assure citizens of a more equitable distribution of the financial benefits in being a part of Canadian society.
One final reason that the pervasive discourse on human rights in Canada may be problematic is that according to Anishinaubae Elder Basil Johnston (2009):
The whole emphasis is on rights. ‘My rights are being violated. My rights are
being infringed upon.’ There’s not a word about duties. To us, a right is
debnimzewin. But each right is also a duty. And we’ve forgotten to teach those …
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so we have to go back to some of these values: responsibility, duty, right.
(Johnston in McKegney, 2006, pp. 270-271)
Thus, including an Indigenous perspective on rights recognizes the corresponding duty to others in the community by providing a more holistic way of looking at both rights and obligations.
This requires according greater weight to personal responsibility and the need for beneficial communal living where the mutual exchange of understanding and respect is more indicative of
Indigenous values and ways of being (McKegney, 2006). Such a perspective reflects a very different worldview than Eurocentric, Western understandings of individual liberty and the perception of rights as being distinct from, or even against, others in a zero-sum analysis rather than identifying oneself as being an intrinsic member of a collective society.
4.8 Social Justice Lens in Citizenship Education
A third aspect of citizenship education in terms of curriculum content is social justice education where the aim is for students to acquire knowledge, attitudes and abilities to critique existing political and legal structures in society that have failed to protect citizens or ensure equitable treatment. Social justice education focuses on acquiring a deeper understanding of issues facing society and this may include mobilizing students to bring about positive systemic change in society (Burke, Johnston & Ward, 2017). Social justice is often “used loosely to describe programs and approaches that—behind the label—are not foundationally premised on social justice at all” (Grain & Lund, 2016, para 10) for they lack connection to either the basic theory or grassroots history. Social justice is more than just fairness, it is a recognition that society is stratified with significant divisions and inequities based on race, class, gender, sexuality and ability. When social injustice is embedded in relationships of unequal power enacted at both the micro (individual) and macro (structural) level, students are called upon to 186
explore their own hegemonic assumptions and implication as they exist within a context of systemic injustice and inequitable treatment of others (Sensoy & DiAngelo, 2012, pp. xviii-xix).
The primary emphasis of social justice education is this critical stance and the fostering of activism on the part of citizens who are willing to act in order to bring about a more socially just society.
The emancipatory writings of Paolo Freire (2006; 2007), are often used as the theoretical foundation for such educational endeavours, although Freire never actually used the words
‘social justice’ in his writing to describe his work of addressing unequal power relations (Murillo
& Hernández-Castilla, 2015). Michael Apple has also had an important influence in social justice education by viewing society, including education itself, from a neo-Marxist informed critical perspective (Apple, 2018; 2013; 2011) with curriculum seen as a political creation and education being a key arena of political struggles. Viewed through a critical lens, social justice as citizenship education adopts the notions of struggle, solidarity, and hope within forms of social action (Brown, 2011). Because public schools are a nation’s major social institution it follows that the content and delivery of curriculum is not, in reality, neutral. Unfortunately, it is also evident that this knowledge or the adoption of a critical, social justice lens by some educators, has not generated substantive or systemic changes in society:
Almost three decades after the publication of Ideology and Curriculum (1979)
North American schools still face many of the same challenges articulated in
Michael Apple’s text. Teachers and learners are still confronted with centralized
and standardized programs, top-down instruments of administrative control, and
extreme economic disparities in terms of wealth and achievement. (Brown, 2011,
para 1) 187
Despite this apparent lack of progress, social justice continues to be seen as a valuable addition to citizenship education. The analysis of power and privilege, the roots of disparity, systemic discrimination, oppression and other inequities in society in the classroom are grounded on critical education theorists such as Freire (2006); Apple (2018), as well as feminist scholars such as hooks (2003); Razack, Smith & Thobani, (2010); and adopting a social justice lens has become an increasingly popular approach in Canadian education. Often this approach is seen as a necessary part of becoming conscientious teachers of students who must address inequities in society and many teacher education programs encourage this approach. One example is the
University of British Columbia which includes a social justice component in every teacher education program (Reynolds, 2012, p. 20).
Learning about the traumatic past in citizenship education, is in many ways closely connected to social justice aims as it provides an opportunity “at a remove in time and place” to consider the relationship between a nation’s civic ideals and past political policies and the actual results of these policies in the present (Bull, 2008, p. 101). In this way, scrutinizing past actions such as creating the Indian residential school system is brought into focus with a study of present circumstances through the lens of improving society. Yet social justice, as an offshoot of critical education, is often entirely theoretical. Addressing social issues by being active participants in the fight for social change or working directly with marginalized or socially disadvantaged people in the community is relatively rare, although a few schools do involve student activism that extends beyond the classroom (Evans, 2006). Such participatory projects are premised on the conviction that direct engagement elicits interest, gives students immediacy, and leads to more involved and informed citizenship in the future. The TRC instructs that:
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students must be able to make ethical judgments about the actions of their
ancestors … [and] they must be able to make informed decisions about what
responsibility today’s society has to address historical injustices. This awareness
will ensure that tomorrow’s citizens both know and care about the injustices of the
past as they relate to their own futures. (TRC, 2015b, p. 125)
Whether theoretical or more activist, a social justice approach can be challenging for students, and “teachers, too, can struggle with the mandate. With little on-the-ground guidance about how to actually implement a social-justice lesson that won’t incite parents or frighten kids, they can make well-intentioned choices with terrible consequences” (Reynolds, 2012, para 18). Teachers may be reluctant to engage in social justice subject matter or “shy away from the more provocative discussions for fear of antagonizing parents or disconcerting administrators,
[whereas] others jump in without thinking” (Reynolds, 2012, para 20). If a class activity is not carefully thought through, unsettling education, as advocated by Regan (2010), may result in strong resistance or other negative reactions. Nicolas Ng-A-Fook:
acknowledges the potential for controversy but argues that real-world contention
helps engage kids in the classroom—they’re intrigued, they listen, they participate
… ultimately, you have to know your students, and teachers may need to
collaborate with parents, because you don’t want to offend families or traumatize
kids. (Ng-A-Fook in Reynolds, 2012, para 10 & para 21)
An equally serious caution with respect to social justice and community engagement initiatives is that such approaches often tend to emphasize a certain type of citizen with “particular values and dispositions that are often mired in left-leaning political ideologies” (Di Giacomo, 2015, p. 5).
To counter this criticism whenever controversial topics are introduced into the curriculum, 189
students must be offered multiple perspectives. Without such balance, study premised on the adoption of a singular ideological position becomes manipulative; an egregious abuse of power with students who are a captive and vulnerable audience. The aim of education as espoused by
Socrates was to teach people how to think, as distinct from the orator’s art of how to persuade others to adopt a particular position. How to think is also distinct from the Platonic ‘vision of the wise man’ teaching students what to think. What is different about Socrates, is the openness to continuous reflection and dialogue, for: “It isn’t that, knowing the answers myself, I perplex other people. The truth is rather that I infect them with the perplexity I feel myself” (Socrates in
Arendt, 1971, p. 172). In this way, Socrates sought to improve his fellow citizens. The Socratic approach to thinking encourages a critical internal dialogue as well as interaction with others in conversation to ensure clear thinking rather than the inconsistent, ‘non-thinking’ that was evident in the ‘banality’ of Eichmann’s testimony, according to Arendt (2006). Bureaucratic support for the Nazis, enabled work and extermination camps to spread across Europe and this was only possible because citizens abandoned their internal critical dialogue with the result that “limitless extreme evil is possible” (Arendt, 2003, p. 101). Or in the words of Voltaire (1694-1778): Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities. The primary aim of politics, according to Arendt, as should be evident in citizenship education is to engage in authentic thinking and thereby avoid tyranny. Enlarging and testing one’s thinking is only possible by being willing to consider multiple perspectives and to tolerate the challenge that arises from various competing viewpoints (Fry, 2007, p. 39). Arendt similarly stressed that her own thoughts and statements were not to be understood as beyond reproach since thinking cannot attain conclusive truths. Arendt therefore insisted that her writings should always be considered tentative and open to further examination (Fry, 2007, pp. 81-82). 190
Consequently, to follow Arendt’s reasoning in this regard, social justice education must similarly be cautious about promoting the acceptance of definitive positions on societal issues or setting decisive standards for producing ‘good’ citizens. Both of these objectives border uneasily on being propagandistic, rather than relying on educational discourse. While propaganda was historically a neutral descriptor, it has now come to mean the intentional manipulation of a person’s beliefs with or without their awareness. Regardless of whether the intended impact is to provoke certain responses meant to be beneficial for society, we must remember that propaganda engages people’s emotions in a reactive (and manipulated) way. Such messaging does not aim to elicit a conscious or rational response in the intended recipient and facts and images are often presented selectively, encouraging a pre-determined conclusion or perception in order to further a particular agenda (Weinstein, 2019). Such an approach is, or should be, contrary to any conception of education. Therefore, a social justice approach in citizenship education must teach students to engage in their own independent analysis of societal issues rather than adopting a particular understanding that is in accordance with a pre-determined social justice agenda. The aim of citizenship education is to teach students how to think about issues in society not what to think as citizens. The latter is unacceptable in principle and it silences the voices of students who have not yet formed their own opinion or alienates students who disagree with the ideas presented regardless of whether these ideas are in alignment with the dominant values and beliefs in society or reflect an alternate social justice agenda. When adopting a social justice lens in citizenship education, a commitment to its roots should be evident in a continued allegiance to the originating principle of encouraging students to ask questions and to always think critically.
So, without determining the outcomes, the study of the traumatic past can enhance social justice approaches by promoting dialogue and discussion of challenging issues arising from 191
Canada’s troubled history. The specific inclusion of the history of the Indian residential schools naturally heightens awareness of past injustices in Canadian history and helps to challenge, or at least complicate, dominant narratives by introducing new perspectives. This history introduces difficult knowledge and raises uncomfortable questions about settler colonialism and cultural genocide which still impact society today.
Settler colonialism is a particular form of colonialism, in which the state—through
the use of settlement and settlers—pursues the physical elimination and
replacement of Indigenous people on the land … yet unlike genocide, settler
colonialism is an ongoing structure, not a bounded event … [and] continued
occupation of the land demands continual efforts toward the erasure of Indigenous
peoples. (Dalbo, 2019, p. 38)
Given the ongoing reality of settler-colonialism, Paulette Regan (2010) cautions that simply acquiring knowledge and reflecting on past wrongs is insufficient to generate the necessary social action required for reconciliation efforts. She is also concerned that a risk of introducing such study may simply lead to general feelings of helplessness and paralysis unless critical reflection is joined with social action:
Like Freire and others, I believe that education is not simply about the transfer of
knowledge but is a transformative, experiential learning that empowers people to
make change in the world. Failure to link knowledge and critical reflection to
action explains why many settlers never move beyond denial and guilt, and why
many public education efforts are ineffective in bringing about deep social and
political change … an unsettling pedagogy is therefore based on the premise that
settlers cannot just theorize about decolonizing and liberatory struggle: we must 192
experience it, beginning with ourselves as individuals and then as morally and
ethically responsible socio-political actors in Canadian society. (Regan, 2010, pp.
22-24)
To further a social justice approach in citizenship education, “many classroom teachers strive to promote social and critical awareness, hoping to instill knowledge and empathy in students as they learn about historical wrongs. Teachers aspire to support children in taking agency for and redressing societal actions of the past” (Burke et. al., 2017, p. 107). Yet teachers can only be agents of change in reconciliation efforts to a certain and limited degree. While not discounting its importance, education is not a panacea and changes in curriculum alone will not fundamentally alter the structural inequalities in society. What is possible and may be realized in studying Indian residential school history is a shift from the dominant narratives that have to date silenced or obscured the decades of ‘settler colonialism.’ Ultimately it will be through widespread recognition of past injustices perpetuated by the Canadian government and in comprehending the full consequences of these actions and the ongoing harms to Indigenous
Peoples that reconciliation will be made possible. For this to occur, however, efforts must be made at all levels of society (Burke et. al., 2017) and in all public institutions. Education therefore has an essential responsibility to inform the (future) citizenry and give students a base upon which reconciliation efforts can be made.
One final comment on social justice in citizenship education is the importance of including the voices of Survivors in the curriculum as well as encouraging educators to connect with local First Nations, Métis, and/or Inuit communities. Ideally this will include incorporating land-based education, allowing students to learn more about (from) Indigenous Peoples and practices in situ (Whitlow et.al., 2019). Recognizing that one of the most destructive aspects of 193
colonization was the ongoing attempt to discredit Indigenous ways of knowing and their unique world-view as expressed in language, culture, and “living life in a good way” (Whitlow et. al.,
2019, p. 558), social justice education must ethically incorporate approaches that more closely align with traditional Indigenous ways of learning. Expanding the curriculum beyond intellectual pursuits alone, offers a more wholistic model of action, emotion and spirit. Social justice also involves an emphasis on activism. Learning about Indigenous practices of protest and studying the ways Indigenous People initiate change through resistance, is quite unique—it is fueled with art, songs and stories that engage the heart as well as the head (Murdoch & Bone, 2018):
Every act of rising up for these lands is going to make a difference. Use your heart
as your guide. It’s not impossible it just seems that way … So, take that jump; do
it, because you are going to make a difference. Research your heart, that’s my
message, thank you, Miigwetch. (Murdoch in Markides & Forsythe, 2018, p. 89)
4.9 Interpersonal Relations and Engagement With the ‘Other’
According to the UN (Academic Impact) website: “Education must fully assume its central role in helping people to forge more just, peaceful, tolerant and inclusive societies”
(United Nations, n.d., para 2). This final category of content in citizenship education comprises the knowledge, attitudes and skills relating to interpersonal communications and intra-cultural interactions that would make this UN vision possible. This fourth aspect of citizenship education provides opportunities for students to learn about interacting with others in society and dealing with challenging social situations like inter-personal conflict or bullying. Ethical engagement with the ‘Other’ is also highlighted in such curriculum and includes social emotional learning
(SEL), conflict resolution, restorative justice, the ethics of care, peace education and non- violence as well as the Safe and Caring Schools movement. Such educational opportunities also 194
align with public statements made by the TRC Chair, Justice Murray Sinclair, to educators concerning how education has a central role to play by encouraging students to change the way they talk to and about each other (Ontario Public School Boards Association, 2014). Sinclair
(2014) has highlighted the importance of ongoing dialogue in reconciliation and how this requires a new vision of relationships:
Our leaders need to show the way, but no matter how many deals and agreements
they make, it is in our daily conversations and interaction that our success as a
nation in forging a better place, will ultimately be measured. It is what we say to
and about each other in public and in private that we need to look at changing
(Sinclair in CBC (2014), para 11).
The TRC Calls to Action (2015) with respect to the inclusion of Indian residential school history in the curriculum, require enhancing not only the intellectual understanding of students but also
“building student capacity for intercultural understanding, empathy and mutual respect” (TRC
Calls to Action, 2015, #63 iii). Changing hearts is a challenge in a formal educational setting although there is a recognition of the significant emotional as well as intellectual components to citizenship education. The study of the traumatic past may encourage the development of empathy. Arguably the ethical and empathetic engagement with the ‘Other’ is an indispensable precursor to active democratic citizenship. Citizens in a vibrant democracy must be able to relate to each other and effectively engage in ongoing debate and decision-making. Such interactions align with the requirements of a diverse, multicultural and pluralistic Canadian society where citizens must come to appreciate, if not celebrate, different perspectives as well as understand the need to respect distinct people and different cultures (Michell, 2013, p. 6). Hongyu Wang
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(2009b) has explored how mutual engagement between self and the ‘Other’ is not possible without first unsettling the site of self:
[This] capacity to pause for a moment, turn around, and see the world differently
requires the willingness to consider others’ viewpoints that are different from or
even opposite to one’s own … [and] critical self-understanding comes from
engaging with others who are different. (Wang, 2009b, p. 174)
Wang recognizes that this is challenging, as does Regan (2010), who advocates that Canadians must experience being unsettled in order to take steps toward reconciliation. The intense emotional responses to being unsettled may range widely from empathy to moral anger, from fear to feelings of guilt. Wang (2009b) recommends that none of these emotions be privileged.
Instead an educator can encourage students to accept that such emotions may be provoked in the process of learning (and unlearning). What is important in this educational endeavour is not to become overwhelmed or ‘stuck’ in these, often intense, emotional experiences.
When difficult emotions are accepted rather than denied or pushed away, the
intensity of those emotions can be softened to pave ways for integrating emotion,
intellect, and relationality at a higher level. In such a process, shame and guilt can
be transformed into responsibility, anger can be transformed into commitment,
pain and sadness can be transformed into compassion, and empathy and sympathy
can serve to get in touch with the interconnectedness of human life … [this is] the
emotional labour in which we have to engage … [in] teaching about difficult
knowledge in a nonviolent way so that the root problem of control and domination
in social hierarchy can be treated rather than reinforced … Only nonviolence can
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undo the legacy of racial, gendered, class, and heterosexual violence, among other
social violence. (Wang: 2009b, p. 176)
Direct testimony from residential school Survivors or from those who have experienced genocide may be of particular value in helping students to understand and cope with their own intense feelings about the traumatic past. For example, when Heidi Fried (2019), a Holocaust Survivor, was asked by a student “Do you hate the Germans?” she responded:
Hate is a natural reaction to being wronged, and it must be accepted for what it is.
However, you do not get far with hatred, it is very counterproductive. Hatred does
not affect the hated, but the one who hates feels terrible. It arouses vengeful
feelings and if these are acted upon … it leads to a never-ending spiral of hatred
… you can learn to live with what has happened. You can live side by side with
the former enemy, tolerating each other. Realising that you will never know how
you, yourself, would have reacted in a vulnerable situation. (Fried, 2019, pp. 111-
112)
Citizenship education that focuses on interpersonal relations can draw on a number of sources including restorative justice principles. When Fried acknowledges past harms and the natural, human tendency toward negative emotions such as hate and revenge, she was also able to highlight emotional empowerment as part of moving forward. Such practices known as reconciliatory pedagogy are aimed at bringing about “the healing of personal and social fabrics” according to Lederach (1999, p. 30). Restorative justice principles originated with First Nations
Peoples and are based on a recognition that relationship is a key value in Indigenous culture.
Restorative practices based on these principles are considered vitally important “to replace and reweave the threads of relationships” (Moore, 2017, p. 20) and acknowledge interrelationship as 197
being the connective “fabric of life … [for] life is stronger when we are joined together” (Moore,
2017, p. 40). Similarly, strategies adopted in education to consider reconciliation and the resolution of Indigenous—non-Indigenous conflicts must work to transform the ‘heart of the relationship’ and not remain rooted in a singular, Euro-Canadian world-view (Moore, 2017).
According to the TRC, education has a valuable and essential role in healing relationships (CBC,
2014) and while emotionally challenging this is an essential ‘first step’ for reconciliation:
Survivors’ testimonies compelled those who listened to think deeply about what
justice really means in the face of mass human rights violations. Teaching and
learning about the residential schools are difficult for educators and students alike.
They can bring up feelings of anger, grief, shame, guilt, and denial. But they can
also shift understanding and alter worldviews. (TRC, 2015b, p. 123)
There is no question that teaching the history of Indian residential schools is emotionally charged and therefore daunting. While the preferred approach includes direct testimony of Survivors, it is often not possible to have a local Elder or member of an Indigenous community help students make a direct or personal connection. However, the recent development of educational resources such as Project of Heart, 100 Years of Loss (Legacy of Hope Foundation) and Embodying
Empathy can help to introduce the legacy of the Indian residential schools in classrooms with great impact (McCracken, 2014).
Strong emotional reactions are natural and often considered imperative, a necessary part of the de-colonization process to both unsettle and generate an empathetic response. Yet there are those who question a focus on empathy (Bialystok & Kukar, 2018; Madden, 2019; Zembylas,
2007) and ‘pedagogies of empathy’ are particularly problematic if they rely on a single story of victimization (Dion, 2010). Presenting narratives of the hopeless Indigenous victim is dangerous 198
if students become “preoccupied with feeling sorry for the ‘pitiful’ Indigenous victim at the expense of exploring numerous examples of Indigenous strength and agency that were also present” (Madden, 2019, para 5). An overemphasis on developing empathy for residential school victims may also tend toward a validation of students’ beliefs that they are more compassionate and honourable than their predecessors. However, this response can over-shadow an appreciation of their own entanglement and potential complicity in a system where the negative impacts of colonialist policies are ongoing. Therefore, while engagement with the traumatic past may evoke powerful emotional responses, and Survivors’ narratives have significant educational value, these stories should not be presented as (Indigenous) Others who require rescue or care.
Culturally inclusive curriculum in presenting such history “should not only address the ways in which Indigenous peoples were brutalized but also highlight the contributions they have made and continue to make” (Evans & Vaanderling, 2016, p. 55). While it is vital to study the history of Indian residential schools as a continuing legacy of harm, of equal importance is presenting counter-stories to the theme of victimhood because this will help ensure students’ emotional responses do not foreclose their thinking about a structurally different Canadian society
(Madden, 2019).
4.9.1 Social Emotional Learning (SEL)
On an interpersonal level, the social and emotional development of students and the importance of relational learning is supported by the Collaborative for Academic, Social and
Emotional Learning (CASEL) which has become almost synonymous with SEL. CASEL’s mandate is to encourage research, practice and policy development in learning environments related to adopting SEL, which is defined as helping children “learn to understand and manage emotions, set goals, show empathy for others, establish (and maintain) positive relationships, and 199
make responsible decisions” (CASEL, 2019c, para 3). The CASEL framework identifies five core and interrelated sets of cognitive, affective and behavioural competencies: self-awareness; self-management; social awareness; relationship skills; and responsible decision making, that
“can educate hearts, inspire minds, and help students navigate the world more effectively”
(CASEL, 2019b, para 2). UNESCO calls social and emotional learning, the 21st Century skills stating “academic success is important, but it cannot be the end goal of any education system.
Education must pursue a grander goal; an education for human flourishing” (UNESCO, 2019, para 3). To this end education must give equal weight to both knowledge acquisition as well as the pro-social aptitudes so that students have the opportunity to lead a life they value and cherish.
The emotional aspect of education is a critical consideration when teaching the traumatic past:
New generations must continuously be reminded of former crimes … with the
help of history books, monuments, and museums. But the way in which it is
passed on is very important. If knowledge only addresses the mind, it can be
easily forgotten. It must also reach the heart, where it can awaken emotional
learning. (Fried, 2019, pp. 141-142)
While the overarching aims of SEL are laudable, the three specific objectives identified in
CASEL ‘SEL Works’ are: 1) increased academic achievement; 2) improved behaviour; and 3) strong return on investment (CASEL, 2019b, emphasis added). While appreciating the need for CASEL to ‘sell’ critics on soft skills, the justification for SEL raises concerns due to the emphasis on behavioral and financial benefits. Of course, adopting a pragmatic ‘hard-sell’ approach may be necessary to convince conservative politicians and academically focused schools that “social and emotional learning programmes increase academic achievement. So this is not [seen as] an additional cost” (Schonert-Reichl at UNESCO, 2019, p. 15), yet the promise 200
of these additional benefits remains problematic. CASEL goes on to state that “a review of six
SEL interventions in evidence-based SEL programs showed that for every dollar invested there was an economic return of 11 dollars” (CASEL, 2019b, para 9). The emphasis on justifying SEL by using the instrumental focus of producing citizens who have the ‘tools’ to compete in a global market-place and thereby achieve economic goals for society is an increasingly common educational narrative that privileges monetary interests in the guise of ‘student success.’ Such marketing allows schools to justify the time and funding on SEL by arguing that the outcome of this educational effort will be emotionally savvy individuals who will keep Canadian businesses competitive internationally. Even if economic considerations are a justifiable aim in citizenship education, and certainly this is debatable, the inclusion of the traumatic past cannot be rationalized by such fiscal analysis. While SEL clearly has many aspects that are in line with
TRC recommendations, the validation sought through student competitiveness globally and financially is not one of them. Rather, the TRC advises that the study of Canada’s traumatic past is an “education for reconciliation require[ing] … constructive dialogue and mutual respect.
Educating the heart as well as the mind helps young people to become critical thinkers who are also engaged, compassionate citizens” (TRC, 2015b, p. 123). The expectations of the TRC, while acknowledging the importance of SEL, are more in sync with restorative justice practices based upon three interconnected and equally important concepts: “creating just and equitable learning environments; nurturing healthy relationships; and repairing harm and transforming conflict”
(Evans & Vaandering, 2016, p. 5). While SEL is often promoted based upon efficacy, with a focus on marketable skills, restorative practices are grounded in three core beliefs: 1) that all people are worthy; 2) relationality must be recognized and based upon mutual concern; and 3) respect for the inherent dignity of all human beings. 201
4.9.2 Restorative Justice Practices (RJP)
Peer mediation, SEL, conflict resolution, peace-building and anti-bullying share some similar aspects or aims with restorative justice practices (RJP’s), however it is the foundational beliefs that infuse all aspects of RJP’s in education that more closely mirror the TRC’s approach to the traumatic past. This correspondence is understandable given that RJP’s were founded upon
Indigenous approaches to harm and conflict, where both were perceived as symptoms of disconnection within the community that had to be addressed holistically through healing, restoration of relationships and reconnection.
Justice and equity are foundational within Indigenous traditions … the word,
namwayut (from the Musqueam people), meaning ‘we are all one,’ points us to the
importance of living in balance and harmony with one another. When we live
namwayut, we acknowledge the interdependence of humanity and work to ensure
that relationships are healthy, and that reconciliation occurs in ways that are just
… We are all one. The outcome of justice is related to wholeness and healing
rather than right and wrong. Furthermore, helping another person is more
important than determining fault. Responsibility lies with each of us to repair
harm and restore justice. (Evans & Vaanderling, 2016, pp. 44-45)
RJP’s present a sharp contrast to aspects of the Safe and Caring Schools movement or anti- bullying campaigns because these latter programs often focus exclusively on breaches in behavior and the punishment of offenders. ‘Zero tolerance’ policies in particular have proven to be ineffective and have further broken school community by failing to make schools safer, by exacerbating inequalities and disproportionally disciplining minority students (American
Psychological Association, 2008). Adopting zero tolerance policies in some states in the USA, 202
has led to a phenomenon known as the ‘school to prison pipeline.’ Policies and practices initially adopted to ensure safety and equality in schools actually criminalized school behaviour and frequently targeted already disadvantaged students. The ostensibly equal treatment failed to account for the real-life contextual realities and circumstances in students’ lives. In contrast,
RJP’s emphasize respect and relationship by upholding participants’ dignity in the in-depth exploration of harms and underlying needs (Pakan, 2007). Participants are empowered through collaborative (shared) decision-making, with an emphasis on healing harms and meaningful accountability of those individuals who are responsible for harms. Participants are also reassured that relations are always premised on ‘power with’ rather than top-down ‘power over.’ Such an approach is vital, as “people thrive when they are in good relationships with others and their environments … [and] respect and dignity speak directly to honoring the worth of people.
Mutual concern (reciprocal, interconnected caring) speaks to our interconnectedness” (Evans &
Vaanderling, 2016, pp. 31-32). RJP’s allow a community to address past harms without fear, because both the needs of those who have been harmed and those who caused the harm are met, honoring the worth of all human beings and recognizing the interconnectedness of the entire community. The restorative nature of RJP’s is the distinctive and essential acknowledgment of the dignity and worth of all participants, recognizing that all individuals and groups must be nurtured, protected and relationships re-established in a way that allows people to feel respected and to be seen as fully contributing members of their communities. Measuring individuals (or groups) and judging their worth, or lack thereof, clearly perpetuates the fundamental flaws of
Indian residential schools which were established on the basis of a deficit mentality. The
‘Others,’ in this example from the traumatic past, were those who did not conform and were therefore judged inferior according to mainstream societal standards. It was this mindset that 203
justified efforts of Indian residential schools to ‘fix them’. In contrast, RJP’s foster a mindset and an approach that honors right relationships, premised on accepting others for who they are, not who they ‘should’ be and “restorative justice education leads us to focus on the worth, the well- being, and relational essence of being human. There is a deliberate shift away from individualism, toward interconnectedness, treating one another with justice and equity” (Evans &
Vaanderling, 2016, p. 58).
When the traumatic past, such as the history of Indian residential schools is included in the curriculum there is an expectation this will generate empathetic understanding and increase an individual’s engagement and commitment as a Canadian citizen. The underlying belief is that this will foster a more democratic and caring community. Despite these laudatory aims, the study of the traumatic past is, and remains, difficult knowledge. Particularly if the student identifies as a ‘settler’ or ‘newcomer’, then the feelings associated with the ongoing inequities in society may take on a stronger and more personal emotional impact. In this educational encounter “we cannot dispassionately consider an historic atrocity without at least brushing up against the affective registering of that experience” (Garrett, 2017, p. 38). With respect to citizenship content founded on interpersonal relationships perhaps the key message can be taken from Suzanne Methot, a
Nehiyaw writer, who begins her book Legacy with a quote from elder Reg Crowshoe: We may be through with the past, but is the past through with us? (Crowshoe in Methot, 2016, np.). In addressing the past, Methot (2016) emphasizes not only the trauma but also the resilience:
The age old philosophies – of respect, responsibility, reciprocity, and relationships
continue to underpin our communities despite the negative effect of colonization
and settler colonialism … Indigenous people are more than victims and they are
not defined only by the traumatic events of colonization. (Methot, 2019, p. 3) 204
According to Methot, it is not only the Indigenous communities but also non-Indigenous
Canadians who experience and must address the trauma of the past as they are bystanders to, and therefore impacted by, the events of colonization. In order to address this traumatic past, it is essential that, “we make sense of what has happened, we share our stories, we get to the root of the pain, and then we work together to create change” (Methot, 2019, p. 322). In light of the foregoing discussion, the question remains: Is the study of the traumatic past in citizenship education of most worth? In response, this can be answered in the affirmative if such study increases understanding of historic events so students are able to accept their responsibility to address past harms and if students are encouraged to become engaged citizens who are in ‘good relations,’ and able to make informed choices that will guide the nation into the future.
4.10 Conclusion
Moison, Hirsh and Audet (2015) found that for many teachers the essential lessons from the traumatic past, such as the Holocaust, have a direct application to citizenship education, particularly in respect to the positive influence of addressing tensions arising from pluralism by fostering integration and social harmony. An essential part of citizenship education requires developing a shared set of common or ‘positive moral’ values such as respect for others and acceptance of the responsibility to live together in a diverse nation. An important aspect of the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum can offer a way to encourage moral reasoning in education. Historic events and scientific studies such as the Stanford Prison experiment (1973) or the obedience experiments of Milgram (1974) illustrate the shadow side of human nature where those who are considered Other are easily dehumanized (Zimbardo, 2007). Educational efforts must be made to address such destructive (anti-social) attitudes and behaviour. One of the most troubling aspects of ‘civilization’ is that: 205
Through[out] history humans have demonstrated a sickening willingness on this
basis to inflict cruelty on one another. Part of the explanation may be that we have
an unfortunate tendency to see certain groups – especially outsiders and
vulnerable people perceived as low status – as being less than fully human.
(Jarrett, 2018, para 2)
Aitken and Radford (2018) identified that in order for reconciliation efforts to foster peaceful co- existence as well as justice in societies divided by past human rights violations there must be education policies and curricula to support a reconciliation agenda that includes cross-cultural understanding. Education is a vital aspect of encouraging social integration and cohesion.
Acquiring historical knowledge and exercising citizenship has connective power if students are better prepared to “participate responsibly in discussion, social choices, and living together in a democratic and pluralistic society, open to a complex world” (Létourneau, 2011, p. 84).
Fostering positive relationships and a better understanding of the Other creates the possibility that diversity, rather than being perceived of as divisive, can be seen as a source of strength for
Canada. In this way, the complicated conversation that is curriculum, can help to enhance the multifaceted content areas that comprise citizenship education.
Focusing unduly on achieving detailed or specific curriculum outcomes however is at best optimistic and at worst likely misguided. First, there is no guarantee that teaching history automatically leads to a more informed citizenry or a stronger nation, for “it is not self-evident that people who know history are thereby better citizens then those who do not. Nor is it clear that an understanding of the past necessarily leads to a better understanding of the present”
(Osbourne, 2006, p. 118). Second, pre-determined objectives may be problematic whenever traumatic events are taught because human subjectivity makes the response to such material so 206
intensely personal. Yet despite these cautions the inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools and teaching the traumatic past has significant potential to contribute to the education of students, as future citizens, in all four content areas relating to curricula respecting citizenship.
What has been explored in this chapter is how the addition of Indian residential school history in each of the four different content areas identified has the potential to enhance citizenship education. Students who are better informed and conversant with this history as it relates to our present-day context will understand how political policies have created systemic inequities and personal hardships that continue into this post-colonial era. Exposure to this challenging subject matter may also lead to a heightened appreciation of how the ongoing impact of past actions continue to haunt Canadian society today and how a committed and engaged citizenry will need to address these issues and injustices in the present, as part of a vision for a better future. When addressing the traumatic past, there is a tendency to look for clear and concrete lessons:
Some who teach in primary or secondary schools may feel duty bound to promote
the cause of civic betterment by … encouraging linkages that evidence cannot
necessarily substantiate … [due to] the sheer, unmitigated horror of the events
themselves, there may also be irresistible pressures to find redemptive
outcomes—conditions that restore one’s faith in human decency or provide
illustrations of exemplary human resilience. (Marrus, 2016, p. 8)
Such beliefs while understandable are generally not educative so much as they are founded upon intrinsic moral or even religious justifications that “something good must come out of something bad” (Marrus, 2016, p. 9). While it may be impossible to discern specific, uniform or universalistic messages from the study of the traumatic past, the value of including the study of 207
the history of Indian residential schools is still manifestly evident in citizenship education in all four content areas: 1) democratic; 2) human rights; 3) social justice; and, 4) interpersonal relations. Such study, aimed at provoking thoughtful deliberation and eliciting individual, personal responses based on a deep comprehension of the history and present consequences of one of the foundational and traumatic events in Canadian history is, without question, ‘of most worth.’ Justification of a curriculum commitment based on this rationale is therefore strong.
One final comment on educational aims with respect to citizenship education is to emphasize that these aims must go beyond mere compliance with pre-set learning objectives contained in curriculum guides. Revisiting early writers such as Alfred North Whitehead (1929) in the Aims of Education, it is clear that connecting educational experiences to a student’s life has been considered imperative for decades. To have meaning, education must be more than a mere list of things to be learned without any link or application to the real-world. Connection to real-life is especially important when the suffering of past victims or the recollections of current
Survivors is the subject of study and particularly when the consequences of our traumatic past continue to haunt Canadian society. Citizenship education should not be taught as ‘disconnected’ or as the study of “inert ideas—that is to say, ideas that are merely received in the mind without being utilized, or tested, or thrown into fresh combinations” (Whitehead, 1929, para 2). Including the traumatic past in citizenship education is challenging, but the knowledge, skills and aptitudes related to each of the four different content areas of citizenship education can be enhanced by connecting the history of Indian residential schools to issues in the present. This history is easily linked to the actual lived experience of Canadians and this helps students engage with such subject matter in a way that relates to current circumstances and issues in society.
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Teachers may find it daunting to teach the traumatic past because of the emotionally charged nature of the subject matter as noted in Holocaust education (Klein, 1992). There is also reluctance “due in large part to the fact that teachers struggle to define objectives for teaching this matter” (Moisan, Hirsch & Audet, 2015, p. 248). So, while an argument can be made for not seeking prescriptive outcomes in such study, this does not preclude articulating clear educational aims. The rationale for mandating the inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools can be undermined as an educational experience if there is a lack of clarity. Identifying aims of such study, at least in respect to the four articulated content areas of citizenship education or within the broader scope of the six rationales, is necessary first step. Without such aims, Canadian teachers may experience particular ambivalence due to the complicity of ongoing colonial injustices. The reality is that Indian residential school history deals with more recent events (up to 1996) in our own country. These genocidal actions did not take place 4,500 to 7,500 km away in Europe and over 75 years ago, like the Holocaust. As a result, teachers and students alike are personally connected to, and may feel implicated by, such study. Such subject matter concerns a context that is fundamentally different and even more challenging than studying the Holocaust or more recent genocides elsewhere in the world. Articulating the aims of citizenship education in this context should be carefully thought out in terms of inter-weaving this traumatic past with underlying concepts of citizenship in the curriculum. To this end, a review of the TRC Reports
(2015) and mirroring the TRC aims in content areas of citizenship education is well warranted.
Noddings (2011) asserts that regular, continuous discussion of aims is not only essential for education, but also for any democracy and therefore curriculum aims in citizenship education are necessarily entwined with the purposes for which the history of Indian residential schools is taught. To this end: 209
We point to aims when we are asked, or ask ourselves, why we are engaged in
certain activities and why we are committed to certain beliefs and practices …
when dramatic social or political changes occur, we may modify our aims, create
new ones, or reorder our emphases. (Noddings, 2013, p. 40)
The culminating work of the TRC and its legacy—the CMEC commitment to include the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum—clearly constitutes a ‘dramatic social and political change’ which justifies revisiting educational aims according to Noddings (2013).
Canadian citizenship education, to remain relevant, must respond to these political and social changes. Consequently, further engagement with the colonial nature of the relationships that connect Indigenous and non-Indigenous people are required to address the conflictual cultural terrain that has been wrought by colonial processes in Canada (Donald, 2012, p. 106). A critical part of education for citizenship is the study of such past events leading to a better understanding of the present and a more informed decision-making capacity with respect to contemporary dilemmas or challenges in society (Osbourne, 2011). Ken Osbourne references “H.G. Well’s dictum to the effect that civilization is a race between education and catastrophe, adding that the study and teaching of history … are crucial to education’s victory” (Osbourne, 2006, p. 127).
One rationale that justifies the teaching the traumatic past is to assert that by studying past wrongs, we become better informed and more engaged citizens. Citizenship literacy is enhanced when individuals understand their responsibilities as citizens, such as shaping public policy directions, committing to protecting human rights and utilizing the knowledge and abilities acquired to critique contemporary society when it falls short of democratic ideals. If the traumatic past is taught in a more culturally sensitive, critical, interactive, and disciplined way, then Canadian students might be better prepared to take a more active role in the kinds of 210
citizenship needed for the coming century (Sandwell, 2006, p. 10). By adopting new approaches to citizenship education, future citizens might honor the rights and responsibilities of being
Treaty people which includes the obligations of memory and relationship. Re-connecting with the original aim of Treaty relationship could “nourish tentative steps in the ‘art and practice of neighborliness,’ in miyowicehtowin (good relations) and witaskiwin (living together on the land)”
(Epp, 2008, p. 141), which would, in turn, foster a very unique Canadian citizenship identity. To this end, Chambers provides the following guidance for all educators:
I do not want to take for granted my treaty rights and my treaty responsibilities …
I do not want to take for granted this opportunity I have been given to live
differently than my ancestors … to find ‘my place,’ right here—to be responsible
for how I live here, how I work this common ground with others … And as treaty
people, I believe, this is our common countenance. And, if curriculum scholars
and practitioners, such as myself, consider the matter carefully, this IS our work.
(Chambers, 2012, p. 35)
Building on Chambers statement of finding ‘our place’, I would add that the study of the history of Indian residential schools and Canada’s traumatic past are also integral aspects not only of our work as educators, but also as Canadian citizens, and as Treaty People.
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Chapter 5: Existential Understanding and Studying the Traumatic Past
It would be useless to turn one’s back on the past … of all the human soul’s needs none is more vital than this one of the past. (Simone Weil, 1952/2005, pp. 47-48)
Is there a relation between crisis and the very enterprise of education? In a post- traumatic century, a century that has survived unthinkable human catastrophes, is there anything that we have learned or that we should learn about education, that we did not know before? (Shoshona Felman, 1992, p. 1)
I don’t think people ever learn. I really don’t think they learn from the mistakes of the past. They don’t even learn from their own mistakes ... I’m not sure that there’s any lesson in residential schools that would, you know, enlighten the nation. Maybe it’ll get people more sensitive to our situations. (Basil Johnston in McKegney, 2006, p. 272).
5.1 Introduction: Challenging Curriculum
Can trauma inform education and what value is there in witness testimony of the traumatic past? (Felman, 1992). These are vital questions: for while all education requires change, it is the study of the traumatic past that holds the greatest promise to be truly transformative. Unfortunately, such promise can be easily thwarted by an unwillingness to tackle difficult subject matter. Exploring the history of Indian residential schools is challenging for the listener and when this includes the traumatic testimony of Survivors, this has tremendous power to unsettle and implicate. Ultimately, if such history is not taught in the Canadian education system, questions arise such as: Will the student be short-changed? And will the consciousness of the nation will suffer?
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Before addressing these queries, it is necessary to consider specific challenges to such study. For example, even when the traumatic past is part of the curriculum, historic events may be presented with very shallow coverage or as a simplistic version which is unlikely to change hearts or minds or alter personal beliefs and actions. For example, superficial analysis of the
Holocaust with messaging such as: ‘Hitler was evil,’ is likely to result in limited insight into human nature and a corresponding complacency about one rights and responsibilities towards tyrannical abuse of power or systemic injustices. Thus, students must be challenged to explore the traumatic past in ways that pertain to contemporary inequities and required to examine issues in a way that questions their own assumptions and perspectives (Westheimer, 2015, pp. 8-9).
Appealing to a deeper level of reflective consciousness may invoke an empathetic response and/or cause emotional discomfort. Still, the risk of emotional challenge is preferable to a superficial understanding of the traumatic past in an attempt to avoid emotional pain or burden.
Lack of depth or avoidance are both ineffective responses for despite efforts to repress and deny the past it will leach into the present, “affecting our relationships and our general conduct in ways we ourselves probably never fully comprehend” (Holloway, 2002, p. 33). Therefore, if the aim of education is to become more fully realized as a human being then a critical rationale for studying the traumatic past in a meaningful way demonstrates a willing acceptance to explore the horrific events of history so as to ask deeper, existential questions of life.
5.1.1 Challenge to Subjective Understanding – Requires Personal Choices
Although often neglected, understanding of our selfhood and asking existential questions can be a foundational aspect of the educational experience and this is most evident when the subject matter is ‘unsettling’ such as the study of the traumatic past. According to Sartre, each individual creates his or her ‘self’ through the choices made each day so that life’s meaning is 213
ultimately defined or found in the responses to challenging or traumatic situations. Bakewell analyzes the writings of Sartre and identifies how each individual is advised to act as if:
choosing on behalf of the whole of humanity … if you avoid this responsibility by
fooling yourself that you are a victim of circumstance or of someone else’s bad
advice, you are failing to meet the demands of human life and choosing a fake
existence, cut off from your own authenticity. (Bakewell, 2016, p. 10)
On the basis of this freedom of choice, our fundamental human condition is that each person is created through action and therefore everyone is always a work in progress. Conceiving each human being as a ‘work in progress’ is illustrated in the title of a biography of a ground-breaking educator: The passionate mind of Maxine Greene: ‘I am … not yet’ (Pinar: 1998, emphasis added) which recognizes the present (and oneself) as ‘something yet to be completed’. So, what does it mean to invoke the past in order to open our existential understanding of the present?
Maxine Greene speaks to both the tensions and passions of caring and the necessity of imagining what it might mean to “look at things as if they could be otherwise” (Greene, 1995, p. 19). Thus, educational possibilities always include, whether or not it is evident in the curriculum-as- planned, a “space wherein subjectivity is informed and complicated by the relationship between the self and others thus redirecting affect and thought, opening new possibilities for action in the present” (Simon, 2014, p. 206). Curriculum studies provide a lens through which it is possible to explore existential understanding as a rationale for engaging in the study of the traumatic past.
5.1.2 Evokes Personal Unsettling and Vulnerability
There is no question that studying the history of Indian residential schools and the ongoing harms of colonization qualifies as ‘difficult knowledge,’ a concept defined and explored by Britzman (1998; 2003; 2009; 2013). Britzman connects concepts of trauma theory developed 214
by Caruth (1995; 1996) and applies these to her educational analysis in order to articulate the ways in which difficult knowledge disrupts old ideas and challenges fundamental ignorance that is closely intertwined with an individual’s identity. This idea of human vulnerability rests on the fact that each of us is dependent upon others to be alive. Thus, trauma studies entered “into the lexicon of education and teacher education … [as] the universal condition of vulnerability is laid bare in situations of difficult knowledge” (Garrett, 2017, pp. 39-40).
5.1.3 Raises Existential Questions – Generates Discomforting Emotions
Studying genocide and hearing the testimony of Survivors situates us squarely within difficult knowledge and raises many of the same queries asked by existentialists:
The question of facing death; of facing time and its passage; of the meaning and
purpose of living; of the limits of one’s own omnipotence; of losing the ones that
are close to us; the great question of our ultimate aloneness; our otherness from
any other; our responsibility to and for our destiny. (Felman & Laub, 1992, p. 72)
Such existential questions are raised whenever we experience the direct testimony of those who have experienced trauma and becoming a witness to their story inserts these narratives of the past harm and emotional response, directly into the present. Engaging with such difficult knowledge is often an intense and disruptive experience to the individual due to the emotional vulnerability and the loss of innocence which are a consequence of engaging (Britzman, 2009, p. 40). Victim narratives are particularly powerful and can initiate an intense educational journey of new and challenging knowledge. Consequently, studying the traumatic past contrasts sharply with the natural preference for ‘lovely knowledge,’ another concept developed by Britzman, where the aim of education is to evoke comfortable and positive feelings of pride and personal achievement
(Pitt & Britzman, 2003, pp. 755-776). In juxtaposition to this emotional response to ‘lovely 215
knowledge’ is the reaction to difficult knowledge, where uncomfortable feelings of uncertainty and resistance arise. Such reactions, in the extreme, may result in a ‘fatigue of limit’ or a desire for continuity by adhering to the known so as “to maintain a sense of safety in the face of the upheaval of such questions” (Felman & Laub, 1992, p. 72). Difficult knowledge may also arouse defensiveness including avoidance or withdrawal, or even stronger emotional reactions such as fear, anger or shame, any of which may curtail the educational space that the stories of Survivors or victims otherwise creates. To counter-balance such responses educators should not resort to an over-emphasis upon factual details (a predominantly rational or analytic approach to trauma). It is also important not to overly emphasize overtly emotional reactions such responses encourage individuals to redirect their attention away from being present with the traumatic past or fully engaging with witness testimony. Admittedly, intense emotions may result initially in a ‘freeze, flight or fight’ reaction that potentially shuts down responsiveness. Yet, emphasizing an emotionally devoid focus on factual details simply enables emotional distancing and precludes deeper human engagement and the possibility of this potential ‘unsettling’ to generate deeper meanings. Each of these extremes—complete avoidance or undue focus on facts—effectively forecloses the space necessary for new understandings to arise in the educational experience.
Therefore the preferable approach is to chart a middle path which recognizes and also accepts the challenging emotional engagement and personal relationality or connection such study demands.
5.1.4 Fosters Personal Search for Meaning—Curriculum of ‘My Own Life’
Encouraging the openness to asking difficult existential questions is challenging however this may evoke a personal search for meaning and more clearly highlight the need to make personal choices in respect to reconciliation. Although challenging, personal exploration of difficult knowledge and resulting queries can be an overall positive experience: “I was given a 216
new language—new methods, questions, and possibilities—for understanding the curriculum of my own life, its educational significance: I could address the existential questions and crises of meaning besetting me, and the modern world” (Quinn & Christodoulou, 2019, p. 43). For the traumatic past to be encountered in a way that has a positive impact on one’s subjectivity requires a willingness to remain open to self-questioning, to engage with the experience of human vulnerability and the fragility of life, rather than shutting down this avenue of enquiry by choosing to focus on specific content or disavow such study as being of limited value, for “taken seriously, our traumatization … [has the] potentiality of recognizing it as a vehicle for real learning … the opportunity of moving from dependence to independence, of coming to take responsibility for our own responses, and our own learning” (Eppert, 2002, p. 59). Such challenges are even more pronounced when human suffering has occurred on a massive and systemic scale as was evident in the Holocaust or in the genocidal acts of colonialism including the establishment of Indian residential schools.
The academic or educator who takes on the study of mass injustice and violence must recognize the paradox of trying to make sense of situations, which cannot be made sense of, to represent what is beyond representation, and to “work sensitively and diligently to keep the difficult, difficult” (Morris, 2001, p. 7). Articulating such demanding work may not be possible in analytic terms, as it requires:
an intimate personal perspective and an emotional openness to the individual
experience of others … as an instructor, one must constantly balance the need to
analyze broadly and theoretically, to confront existential questions about human
behavior, and to attend to the intimate and individual dimensions of mass
violence. (Gabriel, 2018, p. 90) 217
Such educational efforts toward self-realization are also important from an Indigenous perspective where every student is expected to undertake “a unique path of learning to travel in his or her lifetime” (Cajete, 2016, p. xv). This Indigenous path creates, “interconnectedness of the past and the present, the dream world and this world, memory and this moment” (Nolan,
2015, 57). Unlike the focus of traditional curriculum as received teachings, studying the traumatic past encourages students to search within themselves and to uncover personal meaning within their lived experiences. Perhaps one of the greatest disconnections between Indigenous and mainstream educational approaches is the ubiquitous perception in modern consumer culture that the student ‘lacks’ knowledge and skills and must look externally for meaning. In contrast, traditional Indigenous approaches expect that meaning is created within oneself and thus becomes the basis for ‘acting in a good way’ communally:
because of the nature of the Indigenous worldview—the belief that we are all
connected [and] … the natural world often lead us to truths we have not been able
to face, and in living them we are able to move forward in our lives, in our deaths,
and into the great continuum that is our history. (Nolan, 2015, p. 106)
Consequently, the aim of such educational efforts is “to create and voice our truths … creating new and better realities … and connect to a way of being based on doing, rather than blind consumption” (Simpson, 2011, pp. 92-93). Ultimately this requires each individual to commit to learning, introspection, and making informed choices.
5.2 Studying the Traumatic Past and Difficult Knowledge
Deborah Britzman’s work (1991; 2003; 2009; 2013) is foundational for understanding that it is perilous to ignore the emotional impact of studying the history of colonization. Difficult knowledge is a term that encompasses the unconscious processes as a reaction to, and a result of, 218
the “representations of social traumas in curriculum and the individual’s encounters with them in pedagogy” (Pitt & Britzman, 2003, p. 755). Emotional affects are considered of great force
(Britzman, 2009, p. 10), particularly those responses that challenge one’s identity. While the study of the traumatic past is considered ‘difficult knowledge’ as defined by Pitt and Britzman,
(2003), in many ways the history of Indian residential schools is much more than simply
‘difficult’ as the word is routinely used in everyday language. ‘Difficult’ is an adjective defined by the on-line Oxford dictionary as either “needing much effort or skill to accomplish, deal with, or understand” or a situation “characterized by causing hardships and problems.” The latter usage seems more appropriate in respect to Indian residential school history. However, the example given by the Oxford dictionary of “a difficult economic climate” lowers the emotional tone and psychological impact. The definition and usage of ‘difficult’ denotes a challenging situation but one that can be overcome with effort. This choice of ‘difficult’ does not reflect the intrinsic unsettling that occurs at the very core of one’s being, (a concept Britzman indicates is essential), so there is a fundamental disconnect between the common usage of ‘difficult’ and the phrase ‘difficult knowledge’ as has been applied to educational situations. In contrast,
“traumatic” as defined by the Oxford dictionary, means “deeply disturbing or distressing,” as well as “relating to, or causing, psychological trauma.” The word ‘traumatic’ is a more accurate descriptor by reflecting the intensity of the emotional impact and existential crisis when encountering subject matter involving genocidal acts such as the history of Indian residential schools. There is a lack of resonance in word choice yet difficult knowledge, as defined by
Britzman, remains as crux of what the ‘traumatic past’ means within an educational context.
Therefore, whether called the traumatic past, or ‘difficult’ knowledge, the inherent challenges in such study is fundamentally justifiable. Ultimately, the inclusion of the history of Indian 219
residential schools in the curriculum will be found in its power to ‘unsettle’ (Regan, 2010) for without such troubling there will be no basis to generate the determination necessary to engage all Canadian citizens in reconciliation efforts which is now essential according to the TRC.
5.3 ‘Unsettling’—A Dynamic of Existential Understanding
By revising our nation’s story, through study of the traumatic past, colonial narratives are undermined, and identities bound up with current understandings of citizenship are challenged.
In Unsettling of the Settler Within, Paulette Regan (2010) focuses on how studying Indian residential school history, as an essential component of Canadian education, exposes teachers and students to the abuse of children as a direct result of church and state assimilationist policies.
The result of such study is ‘unsettling’ in two ways. First, students may identify with children who were harmed in the past their vulnerability when taken from the security of their homes and the trauma of being exploited by adults who betrayed their trust and inflicted serious harms in the name of education. Second, being unsettled in this way will create a loss of innocence generally as to the inherent fairness or benefice to be expected in the world. Students may also experience the loss of a positive national narrative of Canada as being a peaceful and just nation. Therefore, attempts to address the traumatic past, challenge a student’s existing personal, as well as national identity. Such challenges to identity may result in an immediate sense of disorientation and sense of loss. However, in the long-term, such unsettling and the working through of trauma arising from difficult knowledge may bring new collective narratives or ‘origin myths.’ A new mythic ethos creates the possibility of a revised identity and a regenerative legacy with the possibility of reparative and reconciliatory acts (La Capra, 2016, pp. 394-395).
When encouraged to become unsettled through questioning past assumptions during the course of post-colonial studies, students will not only reconsider their immediate standpoint in 220
respect to this history but also challenge the intrinsic “settler normativity [which] is so deeply embedded in the Canadian consciousness that reflexivity is imperative” (Aitken & Radford,
2018, p. 42). Engaging in decolonization and subsequent unsettlement are not pleasant practices, but such educational experiences are a necessary part of the reconciliation process. Analyzing the past through ‘trauma studies’ has become an increasingly ‘prevalent preoccupation’ (Caruth,
1996; La Capra, 1998, 2001) as by facing up to a traumatic past, there is the potential for change as possibilities arise when something new is brought into the current moment that marks the future as unfinished.
Survivor narratives are one way to bring past events into the present “in order to create a fissure in one’s historical consciousness, one that makes it possible for certain traces of the past to break in and indeterminately alter the present and its future possibilities” (Simon, 2014, p.
204). This rupture of the past into the present is difficult knowledge. Such a rupture is intended to unsettle but not shock students to the point that arrests thought or arouses defensive reactions.
Shock and/or defensiveness may prevent future change to existing relations and practices.
Difficult knowledge of the traumatic past demands “both responsibility and a response. The past approached on such terms opens the present not merely to gaps in its knowledge, but to a radical reframing of what historical remembrance might accomplish beyond an awareness of things not previously known” (Simon, 2014, p. 204). Our sense of self may be reconstructed in response to the human vulnerability, suffering and also inherent humanity evident in Survivor narratives. In this sense, these stories illuminate “the poetics of self, [which] is not to be solved, but rather located in the in-between space of potential relations” (Britzman, 1998, p.14). Such personal accounts can become an essential aspect of the educational rationale for studying the traumatic past, as these stories help create the ‘uncanny space’ of raising questions or requiring a ‘working 221
through’ involving a “simultaneous moment of defense, recognition, and undoing that makes the ego so vulnerable” (Britzman, 1998, p.14). While it must be acknowledged that no single educational experience can be held accountable for either altering beliefs and attitudes or instigating action in the world, for such a possibility to exist, intense unsettlement should not be avoided. This is especially true when such study evokes feelings of implication:
I insist on the need for empathic unsettlement, and the discursive inscription of
that unsettlement, in the response to traumatic events or conditions. Moreover,
there is an important sense in which the after affects—the hauntingly possessive
ghosts—of traumatic events … in various ways, affect everyone. (La Capra, 2001,
p. xi)
One way in which the traumatic past has already been the basis of identity-formation is through the experience of victims of Indian residential schools who united as a political force by sharing, and then identifying with, the commonality of their past traumatic experiences. Together they forged a new positive identity as Survivors. Naming and framing their experience by identifying as ‘Survivors,’ transformed members of this group from marginalized and vulnerable victims to empowered individuals, by validating their memories of shared suffering. By recognizing themselves collectively as Survivors, individuals were able to face the trauma from previously repressed memories, embracing this new identity rather than disavowing the past. Survivors through such solidarity as a united community advanced their claims with the public and politically, lobbied the government, initiated law suits and pushed for a class action settlement of their legal claims which included compensation for personal injuries. The Settlement Agreement which was the result established the TRC with the aim of exposing the traumatic past and providing a forum for Survivors so their voices were heard across the nation. 222
5.4 Dystopic Curriculum
It is only in recent years that the traumatic past has become of concern to history studies, yet the approach adopted is often counter-intuitive to deep-learning, for “the quest for objectified facts, ready readability, entertaining anecdotes, free-flowing narrative, and classical balance, threatens to take the trauma out of trauma” (La Capra, 2018, p. 84). If narratives are presented in a way that serves to conceal their troubling, unsettling, traumatic nature then the reader/listener is not challenged to respond ‘differently.’ The other extreme is presenting traumatic narratives as utterly unspeakable experiences with the corresponding risk that such study becomes an incomprehensible affront to understanding or an ‘impossible mourning’ according to La Capra
(2016). Either of these diametrically opposed approaches will ultimately be counter-productive:
Trauma and its causes are indeed a prominent feature of history, which should not
be airbrushed or denied. But to construe trauma as evoking essential
incomprehensibility is to obscure dimensions of traumatic events and experiences
that are amenable to at least limited understanding, which may help to avert the
incidence of trauma or to mitigate and counteract its effects … in enabling critical
judgment, opening possible futures, and diminishing or eliminating the causes of
historical traumas such as prejudice, scapegoating, and extreme differences of
wealth, status, and power. (La Capra, 2016, p. 377)
Finding balance between these two extremes requires both openness to the totality of experience and cautionary humility. Any attempt to study completely reprehensible historic events and claim some deep ‘understanding’ of the inhumanity borders on being an affront when such actions clearly transcend comprehension (Cathy Caruth, 1996). For as Marla Morris contends a
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genocide, such as the Holocaust, “lies at the [very] limits of understanding, representation, and empathy” (Morris, 2001, p. 12).
Engaging both the heart and the mind is necessary, yet educators are justified in being concerned about their students’ reactions to such study. How best to navigate the treacherous waters of the traumatic past is a valid concern. Exposure to such study may result not only in unsettling but could risk triggering more intense emotional responses such as anger, anxiety, guilt, sadness, fear or even disgust which are not generative in nature and may actually create unintentional harm as “historical trauma is not intended to foster either repression or immobilization in the face of history” (Simon & Eppert, 1997, p. 177). The inclusion of Survivor testimony is meant to offer an honest portrayal of history based on real events. Beyond this accurate representation of history, there are other educative benefits derived from studying the traumatic past, including the possibility of a deeply transformative educational experience that justifies inclusion of such subject matter. A preliminary analysis of arguments for inclusion, over a decision to exclude based on possible risks are first and foremost, that students should not be shielded from the reality of what ‘has been’ and educational efforts are necessary to counter the faux or ‘Disneyfied’ versions of the past, such as the one portrayed in the 1995 movie
‘Pocahontas’ where a comforting, albeit revisionist, idea of history was presented (Sandlin &
Garlen, 2016). Yet Morris (2001) goes further and argues that in some situations simply presenting a balanced portrayal or presenting a corrective take on history is insufficient. In speaking of the Holocaust specifically whatever truths might arise are always limited because of the enormity and horror of such an event. Morris (2001) contends that in respect to the traumatic past, the adoption of new narratives can never be redemptive or comfortable as there is nothing emancipatory or liberating or hopeful and such study must always remain a dystopic curriculum. 224
‘Dystopia,’ the opposite of ‘utopia,’ denotes a society, real or imagined, where there is intense suffering and/or great injustices perpetrated, and a dystopic curriculum is the study of such places or events. Such curriculum allows for “interferences, otherness, alterity, and strangeness to emerge out of the different sites of representations. Under the sign of a dystopic curriculum, memories emerge not as a promise of hope, but as a testament to despair and truthfulness”
(Morris, 2001, p. 9). According to Morris, hope has no place in the study of a historical period such as the Nazis or WWII Holocaust that ended in genocide, in fact, “hope signifies something that makes little sense in a post-Holocaust era” (Morris, 2001, p. 24). The study of genocide should offer a dystopic understanding of the world and such curriculum should elicit personal existential crisis, as this is the more appropriate human response, as opposed to hope, when confronted with stories of genocidal terror. Such an ethical stance abandons misguided educational practices that aim to secure positive messages from trauma or promise a utopian future. The study of genocides such as the Holocaust must:
never be the story of happy endings ... we must keep the memory of Auschwitz
difficult, hideous. There is nothing hopeful about the annihilation of 6 million
Jews. A dystopic lens keeps the otherness of this memory intact ... through the
lens of dystopic curriculum, educators might engage in memory work and this
memory work is tough, not soft. This call to remembrance is a testament to
suffering. (Morris, 2001, p. 24)
Theodor Adorno earnestly considered the question: “Whether one can live after Auschwitz”. This question was no mere rhetorical query, but a question of greatest seriousness where every other inquiry in comparison becomes an irrelevant consideration. For Adorno it was inconceivable that
“life will continue ‘normally’ or even that culture might be ‘rebuilt’: “What took place in 225
Auschwitz and other death camps implied the collapse of the existing civilization that had been built up so laboriously” (Tiedemann, 2003, pp. xii-xiii). The implication one feels in the study of the traumatic past is a feeling of deep shame in simply being human.
Both Primo Levi and Hannah Arendt broaden this idea … advancing a sense of
shamefulness in being human in [a] world in which genocide was a historical and
still is a present reality … a shame grounded not solely in what one personally did
or did not do. It is also grounded in the discreditable, irrevocable actions of others.
(Simon, 2014, p. 212)
Similarly, those who study Indian residential school history may feel intense implication in being a settler with the attendant risk of evoking feelings of guilt or shame. As learners there is a very human tendency to be overwhelmed by such emotions or to simply try to negate the entire experience through disavowal or silence. Many post-Holocaust writers and curriculum scholars recognize, as did Adorno, that while the Western-European legacy of positivity was never irreparably damaged and while talking and studying is unable to change what has occurred, nonetheless silence is not an answer (Tiedemann, 2003, p. xv). A dystopic curriculum requires studying the traumatic past as well as the day to day reality of contemporary life in a violent and unjust world while simultaneously acknowledging that this risk of exposure to suffering might understandably provoke strong feelings of distress and disempowerment. Simon (2014) identifies a central educational aim in such study as being the need to draw forth a profound realization that a standard of humanity has yet to be met. Educational efforts can therefore help to transform such feelings though enhanced knowledge and emotional understanding into action. In this transformation, from despair to acceptance, there is an essence of hope for a better world, where
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the traumatic past is a legacy that is not to be shouldered as an intolerable burden of inadequacy but as a sign of commitment to act differently in the future.
Still, both hopeful and utopian thinking are concepts that require troubling according to
Morris (2001) as it was this tradition of wishful, utopian thinking that created the conditions enabling the Holocaust to occur in Europe. Education is rife with “the utopic teacher [who] believes she [or he] can make the world a better place … but wishing for this better, happier place tends to reduce the complexities of lived experience into a recipe, or a method, for happiness” (Morris, 2001, p. 198). Dreams of perfection can also be a dangerous illusion that can become deadly for those who do not fit into an idealized utopian future. Utopian thinking always creates ‘Others’ who disturb the expectation of conformity and standardization and are therefore justifiably ostracized, exiled, or ultimately annihilated. Therefore,
a dystopic curriculum seems more adequate to the task of becoming an educated
person … [otherwise education] built on utopian thinking, forces students and
teachers into a ‘homogenizing process’ … a form of totalitarianism because it
offers a total vision, a grand metanarrative of the perfect life … the illusion of
order. (Morris, 2001, p. 199)
For this reason, utopian visions of education and society must be interrogated, dismantled and finally demolished because surveillance, control, and ultimately violence have historically been the result en route to a utopian ideal. While Morris (2001) recognizes “education is a highly complex and ambiguous process … and standardized bodies of knowledge, more often than not, serve oppressive ends” (Morris, 2001, p. 212) she identifies it is still possible to find a non- nihilistic stance in the mid-ground between the extremes of hope and despair. While in agreement with Morris that utopian ends are not an appropriate aim for the study of the traumatic 227
past, and recognizing despair is self-defeating, a middle path must be still be found because inclusion of Indian residential school history has been identified as a necessary step toward reconciliation. One final caution, even the most exemplary approach to the traumatic past, that adopts a multi-faceted, inter-disciplinary exploration to deepen understanding, woven through with personal narratives and establishing vital linkages to contemporary culture, must at the very core, hold sacrosanct the recognition that it is impossible to fully comprehend the traumatic past.
5.5 Survivor Narratives: Risks and Rewards
Engaging with the traumatic past based upon a rationale of existential understanding requires more than the mere transmission of information. This engagement may best be accomplished through the personal accounts of those individuals who were caught up in these events (i.e. Survivor stories), the excerpts of oral or written testimony of what “it was like to live under specific, often oppressive historical circumstances … [to] empathize with people from the past, particularly those who have suffered the abuses of subjectification and the violence it enacts” (Simon, 2014, p. 209). The educative value of witness statements can be a powerful force for rethinking the present based on a new awareness of the traumatic past. Narratives may compel stronger connections between the past and present by “adopting other peoples’ memories of events in a way that alters a person’s subjectivity and politics” (Simon, 2014, p. 209). To study the suffering of those who were impacted by past criminal actions taken by the national government is based upon a belief that “teaching children about atrocities within their local community deepens their understanding and empathy for others” (Burke et.al., 2017, p. 114).
These narratives can be used to connect the traumatic past to the contemporary context in a way that enhances personal insight as well as to evoke a compassionate response in both the mind and
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heart because this is the basis for a commitment to act and address harms arising from past injustices and genocidal acts.
Genocides “resist assimilation into coherent explanatory frameworks” (Simon &
Eppert, 1997, p. 176) and those who study the traumatic past can experience reactions mirroring the initial responses of original victims:
When something happens that is ‘unthinkable’—so inconsistent with our view of
the world that we can’t imagine it—we do predictable things to make sense of it.
We deny it… or we find some explanation that helps us feel safer … [or] we try to
push it out of our minds in some kind of voluntary forgetting. (Minow, 1998, p.
120)
In fact, Survivor stories can simultaneously evoke a contradictory desire to forget (sublimate) and at the same time elicit a profound ethical obligation to remember. Dedicated effort is required to face and actually work-through such study so that remembrance becomes a beneficial educational experience. Britzman (1998) drawing on theories of psychoanalysis, explores the ‘inside/outside’ (or self/Other) educational encounter, where:
Education is best considered as a frontier concept: something between the student
and teacher, something yet to become. The work of learning is not so much an
accumulation of knowledge but a means for the human to use knowledge, to craft
and alter itself. (Britzman, 1998, p. 4)
Due to their intensity and power to generate transformative change, stories of violence and suffering should never be treated lightly or explored as an afterthought with too brief a period of reflection. If there is too little time or victims’ narratives are not an integral part of the curriculum then these stories will likely have less impact and may be soon forgotten. Instead 229
there must be a commitment to deep, sustained study that allows for personal questioning and a rethinking of present circumstances. Such an approach will not only encourage greater personal insight but also draw forth an empathetic understanding of those impacted by trauma, thereby increasing the likelihood of corrective actions being taken in the future to repair past harms.
If the study of the traumatic past provokes existential questions, then it is critical to sustain such personal exploration by avoiding the use of consoling or comforting language, otherwise this consolation will likely become a barrier to the individual student ‘working through’ or coming to terms with ‘discontinuity and loss’ (Britzman, 1998, p. 119). An opposite and even more problematic response arises when the reaction is unthinking or disrespectful and minimalizes the seriousness of past trauma. As already noted, disconnecting from stories of suffering may be the result of a protective defence mechanism as a response to a fear of personal implication or emotional over-load. Another possibility is that disengagement may be the result of contemporary oversaturation from ubiquitous tragic media images. Finally, resistance to being unsettled may also be due to either immaturity or a lack of imaginative ability to understand that these stories have any personal relevance. If students are unable to integrate these stories of past horrors into their lives in a way that raises questions about their understanding of self and society then the educational experience will be of limited benefit. This lack of capacity in certain individuals reflects an unfortunate state of disconnection with oneself and with one’s circumstances:
We are what we know. We are, however, also what we do not know. If what we
know about ourselves—history, our culture, our national identity—is deformed by
absences, denials and incompleteness, then our identity—both as individuals and
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as Americans, is fractured. This fractured self is a repressed self. Such a self lacks
access both to itself and to the world. (Pinar in Morris, 2001, p. 59)
In the end, the study of loss and mourning; remembrance and obligation; difficult knowledge and the traumatic past; are simply the offering of an opportunity, and a challenge, that may or may not be taken up, to “consider the specificities of identity, history and difficult knowledge, in psychic time—an uncanny time in which the larger arguments of history, whether known or not, lives in the small history of the subject” (Britzman, 1998, p. 20).
There are two further concerns that must be acknowledged. First is the risk, requiring vigilant sensitivity, that insensitive responses on the part of learners could revictimize those in the classroom who continue to suffer from the impacts of colonization. Second, students may fail to appreciate the ongoing nature of harms resulting from colonization, if the curriculum focuses:
solely on residential schools rather than the broader set of relationships that
generated policies, legislation, and practices aimed at assimilation and political
genocide, then there is a risk … [of believing] the historic ‘wrong’ has now been
‘righted’ and transformation is not needed since the historic situation has been
remedied. (Simpson, 2011, p. 22)
To enhance an existential understanding based on in-depth self-exploration in the study of the traumatic past and to (re)engage with a focus on improving relationships, what is needed is “the recovery of the multifaceted reality that constitutes our shared humanity, vulnerability to suffering, and constant exposure to risk of loss” (Simon, 2014, p. 213). In other words, allowing time for reflection and personalizing the study of the traumatic past has significant potential for encouraging individuals to deeply connect with this invaluable educational experience in ways that do not minimize the encounter. 231
5.6 Ways Forward: Remembrance and Transformational Education
In the study of the traumatic past it is possible to adopt educational approaches that promote questions of an existential nature without becoming either dystopic in nature or posing a significant threat to the individual psyche. To this end, the following educational approaches might be considered:
1) recognizing that real education, by its very nature, has inherent risks and yet these are
‘beautiful risks’ which actually present opportunities, particularly for the domain of subjectivity, although such possibilities are constantly undermined by the contemporary malaise of risk aversion (Biesta, 2016);
2) discovering or identifying the possibility of hope in such study, recognizing that the hopeful person retains the ability to act. According to Simon (2013), a pedagogy of remembrance and possibility reflects, and in fact requires, personal agency in order to imagine the world differently. Similarly, Paulo Freire contends hope is a necessary basis for ongoing struggles in life because hope provides one’s bearing. Therefore, an education in hope is necessary in order to avert being overwhelmed with utter hopelessness and despair (Friere, 2007, p. 3);
3) moving forward in life based on an appreciation of ‘radical hope’ (Lear, 2008; Farley,
2009) where existential understanding actually arises from the experience of trauma and losing one’s worldview because this “sets in motion a different way of being in the world ... disillusionment opens up a way of ‘more fully experiencing’ the difficult fact of being human”
(Farley, 2009, p. 542; Lear, 2008); or
4) finding a more nuanced pathway—a third way—between hope and despair through resolve. Drawing on Simon’s writings, remembrance in the educational context can be an expression of agency—a praxis of thought and action—a personal reconstruction based on the 232
reactivation of the past where there is a breathing of life/energy into history based on knowledge and new understanding (Pinar, 2014). In the process of reactivating the past as an engagement with alterity, “resolve is not a strategy; it is ethical conviction. It is, I suggest, the ‘synthesis’ to which ‘regression’ can lead” (Pinar, 2014, p. 11). While there is no setting right, “no resolution of atrocities, no redistribution of suffering or of ill-gotten gains, no return on investment, no social justice” (Pinar, 2014, p. 11), the way through the traumatic past is through resolve— learning to live with loss and disquieting remembrance—between hope and despair.
The TRC, in addressing these same questions relating to the traumatic past, drew on
Indigenous traditions. Indigenous Peoples’ have always honoured the past, respected ancestors and passed on stories as acts of remembrance, but the key commonality is always ‘living in relationship’ therefore the approach adopted by the TRC was based upon relationality. The importance of relationship was evident in their recognition that the history of Indian residential schools would be challenging—difficult knowledge. The Commission decided early on that their work and educational role needed to be gentle as Canadians learned about their country’s past:
We needed to be sure that people were brought to the table of knowledge about
this in a way that didn’t scare them, didn’t push them away, didn’t make them feel
ashamed or guilty or that they were to blame. But they needed to see that they
were victims, too, of this history. (Sinclair in Kennedy, 2015, para.12)
This purposeful yet empathetic attitude adopted by the TRC may inform educators as to how best to address the inherent vulnerability of students and teachers whenever difficult knowledge of the traumatic past is included in the curriculum.
Regardless of the approach adopted, study of the traumatic past may seem to provide little cause for hope or any expectation that the study of past evil will help prevent its recurrence or 233
create a more compassionate, less violent world. Still, despite the lack of any guarantee that society will improve, being committed to a more equitable society is possible as a personal ethical response by being “open to the challenge of bringing about what is not yet present—a less violent, more just society still to come, in which human dignity is affirmed in all its diverse singularity” (Simon, 2014, p. 203). Studying the traumatic past can be generative and the basis of transformational learning through existential enquiries which enable access to deeper levels of meaning. Shifting from unquestioning acceptance of information—the banking model—to personal reflection and conscious questioning makes an educational experience more personal and harkens back to the axiom attributed to Socrates that ‘the unexamined life is not worth living.’ According to Sartre, each person is called upon to create their own meanings and to take responsibility for their own actions based on these personal meanings. Students who exhibit curiosity and engage in active questioning create the conditions for self-discovery.
When confronted with the traumatic past, personal meaning becomes the only certainty in an uncertain world: “the existential message here is that we are responsible for who we are, for the thoughts we think, and the virtues we choose … [self-knowledge] is the philosopher’s stone that turns the dross of experience into genuine virtue” (Murchland, 2008, p. 20). A corresponding philosophical approach, in the search for meaning, is reflected in Nishnaabewin, where “individuals have a responsibility for generating meaning in their lives, for discovering their place in the world … [each with] their own gifts, desires, talents, and skill set and by actively engaging the world” (Simpson, 2017, p. 28). Indigenous Peoples have always recognized individual self-actualization within the context of the collective, where the search for meaning and one’s place is supported by family and community as each individual realizes their
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own unique life path (Simpson, 2017). Both philosophical approaches recognize the transformative potential of education in the search for meaning and self-discovery:
Transformational learning is the process of deep, constructive, and meaningful
learning that goes beyond simple knowledge acquisition and supports critical
ways in which learners consciously make meaning of their lives. It is the kind of
learning that results in a fundamental change in our worldview … As the
definition implies, transformational learning often leads to profound changes in
our thoughts, feelings, perspectives, beliefs, and behaviors because it is a radical
shift of consciousness that permanently alters our way of being in the world.
(Simsek, 2012, n.p.).
Existential understanding as an educational rationale therefore highlights not only subjectivity but also relationality. According to Biesta, this is where education is true its aim of being a
‘beautiful risk,’ where:
Human subjectivity should not be understood in natural terms, that is, as part of
our essence, but rather in existential terms, that is, as a ‘quality’ of our
relationships with what or who is ‘Other’. Subjectivity is, in other words, not
something we can have or possess, but something that can be realized, from time
to time, in always new, open, and unpredictable situations of encounter. (Biesta,
2015, p. 12)
Biesta identifies qualification and socialization as being two of the three recognized domains of educational purpose, but it is the third, ‘subjectification’ that has to do with relationality, as it is the “subjectivity or ‘subject-ness’ of those we educate, which takes precedence for it has to do with emancipation and freedom and with the responsibility that comes with such 235
freedom” (Biesta, 2015, p. 4). In this sense, the educational purpose of subjectification is most closely associated with the rationale of existential understanding. While Biesta does not reference Arendt directly, it appears he is drawing on her political analysis of the ‘new’ in
Between Past and Future (2006) when he concludes that:
Education is not just about the reproduction of what we already know or what
already exists, but is genuinely interested in the ways in which new beginnings
and new beginners can come into the world … [and so] it is not just about how
we can get the world into our children and students; it is also—and perhaps first
of all—about how we can help our children and students to engage with, and
thus come into, the world. (Biesta, 2015, pp. 4-5)
In all educational efforts, students should be recognized as subjects in their own right and not viewed as mere passive objects who receive education. This recognition is especially vital when working with the traumatic past. Students must be recognized as having the potential to self-actualize and make their own personal choices. To do this, students need space for their own voices to be heard while experiencing the subjectivity of others. Studying the traumatic past, particularly autobiographical accounts of Survivors, is a powerful way to not only explore the shadow side of one’s own nation but also to generate the possibility of self-exploration including one’s implication in the continuity of inequities. Both introspection and active engagement with the world through relationality provide a solid foundation to address the history and harms of colonialism.
5.7 Teacher Discomfort and Resistance
Providing the necessary educational space to explore the traumatic past with the aim of enhancing existential understanding can only occur if there is a willingness on the part of 236
educators to overcome their own resistance to such study (to not look away). The curricular task is not only to explore inner subjectivity but also “to recover memory and history in ways that psychologically allow individuals to re-enter politically the public sphere” (Pinar, 1991, pp. 173-
174). Both tasks require more than simply providing information. If the traumatic past is to have relevance for the present, there must be a bridging between past and present in a way that does not rely on predetermined objectives or prescribe what is to be comprehended (Simon, 2014).
Teachers are often reluctant to engage with difficult knowledge in the classroom and the study of the history of Indian residential schools certainly falls within the ambit of what has been called a
‘pedagogy of discomfort’ (Boler & Zembylas, 2003). However, teachers must recognize that their decisions, (in this case whether to include such subject matter curriculum) have deep moral significance because these choices will influence the development and well-being of others
(Campbell, 2008, p. 364). Avoidance of topics pertaining to historical injustices that require engaging in a challenging dialogue in the classroom is understandable given that such subject matter raises feelings of vulnerability and other uncomfortable emotions (Pitt & Britzman, 2006).
Such reluctance must be acknowledged but should also be addressed in order to realize the full benefits of the educational experience. A desire to avoid difficult knowledge and stay within a personal comfort zone is understandable, yet, teacher avoidance of challenging topics does not serve students because dwelling in a pedagogy of discomfort “can produce favorable results, including self-discovery, hope, passion and a sense of community” (Boler & Zembylas 2003, p.
129).
The CMEC mandate to require the inclusion of Indian residential school history in all
Canadian schools represents a curriculum commitment to difficult knowledge with the corresponding provocation or unsettling of what is considered normalcy by exploring what one 237
imagines as difference or the ‘Other.’ Strong emotions may be evoked when engaging with difficult knowledge and students may similarly resist this kind of education. Yet, what can be even more detrimental is teacher reluctance. It is therefore important to focus on how teachers express avoidance (Garrett, 2017, p. 31) and consider proactive steps that might be taken to address this tendency. One indicator of avoidance, which may even be unconscious, is an undue emphasis on subject matter where factual knowledge is allowed to displace critical questions of an existential nature, such as what it means to be someone rather than to know something, as a result of the educational experience. Even the selection of subject matter in the first instance, according to Britzman (1998), requires careful consideration enabling the conscious inclusion of previously disavowed or ‘lost subjects’ in the curriculum. This introspection on the part of the educator and conscious inclusion of ‘disavowed knowledge’ (Taubman, 2012) challenges many standard teaching metaphors that are ill-suited to the study of the traumatic past. For example, such study tends to undermine the perception of the teacher as the ‘one who knows’ and this is important to recognize as it directly impacts what occurs in the classroom. This is an opportunity, and “a time to consider a learning in which there can be no experts, in which curiosity is incited and the demand of education meets those other demands and then does something more” (Britzman, 1998, p. 20). Consider underlying metaphors is helpful because these are often based upon unconscious beliefs rooted in the teachers own experiences as former students (Tannehill & MacPhail, 2014). The resonance of metaphors on teachers’ thoughts and behaviours is therefore difficult to address without first raising awareness. In order to complicate a prevalent view of ‘teachers as content experts,’ it is first necessary to review a number of common metaphors, including:
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1) Education as a tool or commodity, essentially a ‘market metaphor’ where the teacher is seen as the expert who transmits or dispenses knowledge and the learner is the one who acquires marketable skills and knowledge as a ‘product’ of the school as factory (Robinson, 2010). This is equivalent in many ways to the ‘banking model’ of education (Friere, 2006, p. 72);
2) Education as an artistic endeavour where the teacher is a potter, or sculptor who is responsible to mould or bring forth the full potential of the student;
3) Education as a garden where the teacher’s role is to ‘plant seeds’ and assist in their growth by cultivating and nurturing the learning and development of students, in whom these seeds have been planted;
4) Education as inspiration – where the teacher’s role is to motivate self-development, where “the mind is not a vessel that needs filling, but wood that needs igniting” (Plutarch in
Mühling et. al., 2019, p. 149, Note 1);
5) Education as relationship, where educational experiences are intrinsically interconnected and reciprocal so that teacher and student are learning together through their interactions with each other, the text (curriculum) and the world at large; and
6) Education as a journey where the teacher provides guidance to facilitate students’ exploration and encourages discovery along their individual pathways to the uncharted territory of the future.
Whenever a particular metaphor is adopted, consciously or unconsciously, it becomes a lens or a filter that colours the purpose of education and influences the reality of the relationship between, as well as the roles of, teacher and student. The rationale of seeking existential understanding through the study of the traumatic past is most closely aligned with the two metaphoric understandings of education as a relationship and/or a journeying because it is only 239
in these two education metaphors where the intrinsic agency of each individual (teacher and student) is evident. The life journey metaphor focuses on experiential understanding, recognizing that how we live, how we learn and how we engage with the world changes who we are, for action and reflection are generative. Thinking is realized through action and it is in the ‘doing’ that knowledge is created according to Simpson (2017). While she was speaking specifically of resurgence for Indigenous People, there is broader application to education in
Simpson’s guidance, that existence is made up of a combination of intellectual thought, emotional knowledge and action:
Engagement changes us because it constructs a different world within which we
live … if we want to create a different future, we need to live a different present
… if we want to live a different present, we have to center Indigeneity and allow
it to change us” (Simpson, 2017, p. 20).
Exploring inner consciousness, including feelings of human vulnerability arising from the study of suffering and victimization of others, initiates unsettlement which naturally raises existential questions respecting the meaning of life and one’s personal choices. Such queries, while generative, are deeply subjective and arguably there is no external expertise or ‘sage on the stage’ who can direct such educational inquiry. Instead, in such study one seeks the support of, and shares guidance with, others primarily as co-learners. Despite being on an individual trajectory, each individual explores the challenge of encountering difficult knowledge together, in community. This approach is synonymous with “the Ojibwe [who] envisioned life as a path”
(Simpson, 2011, p. 92) reflecting this similar idea of journeying. Fostering greater awareness of transformative education, where the “first step to understanding the nature of true learning is to
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reach a level of clarity regarding why one is learning” (Cajete, 2016, p. xiii) aligns well with an understanding of the existential aim in the study of the traumatic past.
The greatest concern of educators in such study should not therefore be the unsettling or even the potential for trauma, but rather the presentation of “settled stories, comforting narratives, and certainty … moving too quickly to answer the question of what can be made from histories of violence and loss [which] puts us in jeopardy of foreclosing thought” (Garrett, 2017, p. 34). Thought is closed down easily when individuals experience comfort in hopeful and redemptive narratives. This concern is often identified by Indigenous writers particularly in respect to the emphasis on reconciliation when there is a failure to reflect the substantial work that still needs to be done to achieve this aim (Asch, Borrows & Tully, 2018). The “histories of loss and suffering are not closed and finished stories” (Garrett, 2017, 34) and the way the past will be remembered by a new generation will be based upon how individuals interact with and come to terms with past events. It must be remembered that “historians are not the only keepers of memory, and certainly, their interpretations are not the most authoritative” (Morris, 2001, p.
164). This perspective is particularly true when the violence and suffering arising from the traumatic past has not been resolved and continues to haunt the present. Morris’s analysis is in respect to the Holocaust, however what happened in Canada can similarly never be erased, it will always leave traces in the psyche of Canadians and create a complex inter-relationship with
Indigenous Peoples. Difficult knowledge must not be foreclosed by positivity and when
“difficult memory haunts and entangles … it is to the face of the other we must turn. But the face of the other is not abstract; it is the face of the individual” (Morris, 2001, p. 169). Students who hear the stories of Survivors and face the study of the traumatic past do need support in order to remain engaged with such challenging subject matter. Students must not be coddled, however, 241
with positive feelings of resolution or promised that reconciliation has already occurred for this forecloses the possibility of engaging in the work that has yet to be done. Educators have a vital role to assist in this process of ‘working through’, according to Britzman (1998), so that teachers and students not only explore who they are with the aim to make something more of themselves but also to address the situation in which they find themselves.
The study of the traumatic past “is a microcosm of human experience and our engagement with it brings us face to face with questions we often are able to ignore” (Britzman, in Garrett, 2017, p. 31). While it may be uncomfortable, the value of the educational endeavour must not be diminished by an intention to protect students because this intention actually prevents students from experiencing the true value of education according to Hongyu Wang:
As the instructor, there are times when I find myself feeling guilty for putting
students through all these difficult issues and feel the need to protect them from
the pain of unlearning … [this is] guilt in a double sense: guilt for social
sufferings and guilt for making students confront such sufferings. But if guilt is
better acknowledged, rather than denied, for the public good and personal growth
… [as an educator] I must meet such a challenge and live through what I ask
students to live through … transforming guilt into social responsibility. (Wang,
2009, p. 81)
In addressing this demanding and intimidating subject matter teachers may be fearful of causing not only discomfort for students but serious trauma. Educators may perceive ambiguity in teaching difficult knowledge in a classroom that is required to be a ‘safe space’ of learning—but what does this really mean? The belief that it is possible to construct an educational environment that is effectively isolated or quarantined from the real world, is a chimera: 242
[To] create a safe place for young people to learn is the dream … even if schools
seems far from the mad world outside, violence, discontent, and despair still seep
through the school walls … when teachers attempt to protect students from the
world outside they are unwittingly creating more difficulties for them … if the
goal of education is making citizens happy, and making them feel better about
themselves, I think it [attempting to create a ‘safe’ space] is a thin and
unproductive enterprise. (Morris, 2001, p. 199)
In addressing the traumatic past, relationality can be more directly experienced in hearing the stories of Survivors and in the study of narratives drawn from oral history (Llewellyn & Ng-
A-Fook, 2017; Parker, 2007; Simon, 2014; 2005) as well as in reading fictionalized accounts that are based upon historical and memory texts (Morris, 2001). The use of such stories furthers the intrinsic requirement of interaction with others and the aim of education as being inter-connected and reciprocal which is directly connected to the educational metaphor of relationality. Through such study the traumatic past is humanized, and moral complexity is introduced. This emphasis upon one’s relationship to the ‘Other’ provides a basis upon which it is possible to address the ethical issues of today. Oral histories can empower students to envision a future of coexistence by providing an opportunity to reflect upon one’s thinking and shift one’s perspective. This approach honours relationality. By re-conceptualizing the world with a relational lens there is the potential of:
unique possibilities to reframe Indigeneity within modern contexts … [for]
Indigenous modes of relating can be profoundly empowering as they provide a
framework for social and political mobilization that is grounded in a world view
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that sees humans as interconnected with all of Creation, past, present and future.
(Starblanket & Stark, 2018, p. 194)
The necessity to heal personal and social fabrics recognizes that each generation recreates its own identity by inheriting a society fraught with the harms of the past, entangled in historic events where ancestors may be mired in webs of implication as perpetrators, beneficiaries, and bystanders. The consequences of the “transgenerational transmission of trauma to descendants and intimates of both survivors and perpetrators” (La Capra, 2016, p. 375) is readily apparent in
Canada. For this reason, in order:
To truly heal from the traumatic history that has created this country, Canada must
address the fear and mistrust settlers feel toward Indigenous peoples … Non-
Indigenous Canadians must also address the trauma that they carry as bystanders
to the events of colonization and as descendants of the first wave of settlers. Non-
Indigenous Canadians have witnessed, and still witness, the trauma visited upon
Indigenous peoples and the natural world. (Methot, 2019, p. 320)
As a justification, initiating or invigorating the commitment to both critique and activism is often used as a basis for learning from the trauma of others. Difficult knowledge identifies a relationship between the trauma of a historic event and the subsequent unsettling of one’s ability to go on as before (Garrett, 2017, p. 36). In this way, trauma is not only connected to an event but is also evident in the simultaneous “necessity and impossibility of responding to another’s suffering or death” (Caruth, 1995, p. 101). However, a positive aspect is the potential for personal growth through such educational experiences, because:
We imagine that we don’t want to hear sad stories, but it is our sadness that
cradles our love. When we are sad for someone, it is a measure of our empathy. 244
When we are sad for ourselves, it is a measure of love and justice in our lineage.
When we dodge that sadness, we also negate the empathy, justice and love …
Without memory, we can never be any more intelligent than we are at that
moment. No growth can occur. We cannot imagine justice without evaluating the
past. We cannot understand the nature of the human world without examining the
past. (Maracle in Kamboureli, 2015, p. 37)
Emotional engagement with the traumatic past combined with a better understanding of these unjust events has the potential to encourage commitment to action which includes taking steps toward reconciliation. Intense reactions should not leave the individual mired in emotional torpor but instead translate into an obligation to use the traumatic past to envision just actions in the present that support reconciliation efforts. An obligation to remember is related to the ethical dimension of historical thinking—asking the fundamental question: “What responsibilities do historical crimes and sacrifices impose upon us today?” (Centre for the Study of Historical
Consciousness, n.d.). In response to this query, Indigenous teachings would encourage a focus on the cultivation of human capacities for listening, observation, and experiencing with all one’s senses so that the emphasis on intellectualization is minimized in favour of direct engagement— learning with the heart is balanced with learning with the mind in a transformative educational experience (Tanaka, 2016).
5.8 Conclusion
Studying the traumatic past from the perspective of existential understanding—raising questions that are essential to the search for personal meaning and agency—identifies this rationale as being a critically important educational aim. Perceiving education metaphorically as an individual journey of self-discovery, as well as emphasizing the necessity for, or importance 245
of, relationality in such an endeavour highlights the human need to discover meaning in life.
Meaning is found in one’s life journey, through introspection and engagement with the world and this requires a consideration of existential questions to discover one’s resolve in decision- making and in the taking of ‘ethical actions’ consistent with our ‘core’ being and beliefs.
Acquisition of objective knowledge of the traumatic past with an emphasis on honing critical thinking and skills of enquiry, are important aspects of learning, but must not preclude the deeper meanings possible when existential questions are considered; a potentiality that lies far beyond simply learning the material presented. Educational approaches tend to privilege top-down learning focused primarily on acquiring expertise in academic subject matter and this often excludes attention to self-reflection and a deeper understanding of one’s self and the world. As stated earlier, emphasizing ‘factual content’ may result from an educator’s reluctance to engage fully with the traumatic past. Such avoidance can occur even when an educator’s own stated learning goals are aligned with aims pertaining to a broader/deeper educational experience. The lack of follow-through is frequently the result of incongruous assessment practices that focus primarily upon the testing of cognitive skills or knowledge acquisition (Evans, 2006, pp. 426-
428). A similar disconnect may also be evident in educational contexts where institutional aims and practices are not in alignment with the broader/deeper educational purposes of individual teachers (Evans, 2006, p. 430). This is evident when there is an ostensible commitment to reconciliation but there is little evidence of systemic changes reflecting Indigenous teachings or practices. Therefore, consistent efforts must be made by individuals and changes implemented systemically to support curriculum initiatives with transformative potential so that such efforts are not undermined. While there is never a guarantee that engagement with the traumatic past will create novel ways of thinking or bring about something new that transforms the current 246
moment, the inheritance from the past can still be seen as an opportunity and not a burden that is best avoided. The separateness or alterity of the traumatic past demands a response and when approached on such terms it has the potential to open up possibilities in the present and not merely fill in the gaps of historical knowledge.
To inherit the traumatic past can be perceived as a ‘gift’ or ‘inheritance’ that requires a thoughtful response, “to engage in a particular form of work that intertwines thought and affect.
According to Derrida, one’s inheritance is never simply that which is given, it is always a task”
(Simon, 2014, p. 215) Through engagement and ongoing effort the historical legacy becomes a mediated relationship—an opportunity to discover possibilities. What we inherit, need not be considered fixed. Rather our historical inheritance is part a process obligating thought to determine the significance of the gift (Simon, 2014, pp. 215-216). Exploring the meaning of this
‘gift’ inevitably raises the question: What does it mean, in light of the traumatic past, to act in a world where the consequences of one’s actions can never be predicted? The response from an existential perspective is: While our historic inheritance is never chosen, we are all answerable for the actions taken from this point in time onward. Studying the traumatic past brings unavoidable risks, yet also educational opportunities if such study is not aimed primarily at acquiring master of factual content alone or maintaining adherence to ‘continuity and coherence in society’ (a key consideration of historical consciousness) but rather is used as a basis upon which to determine new directions in the future and to forge new relationships with one another in society.
According to the TRC an essential understanding of the history of Indian residential schools is that this ‘history’ is not yet the ‘past’ because the harmful effects remain an ongoing
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reality that continues to damage lives and harm communities across the country. The way forward is to listen to each other and develop new stories:
Our landlords are Aboriginal people … [but] we’re all neighbors, that’s the
reality. This land has the potential for social greatness. And within this cultural
mosaic lies the essential ingredient of freedom—acceptance. That’s an Aboriginal
principle I’ve learned. When you know your neighbors, when you … hear each
other’s stories, you foster understanding, harmony and community. Stories are
meant to heal. (Wagamese, 2008, p. 4)
For this reason, hearing stories of Survivors will be considered in depth in the next chapter because these narratives must become an integral part of any curriculum consideration of the history of Indian residential schools. Even though stories of the traumatic past will trouble or
‘unsettle,’ this is a necessary of education aims to be a provocation.
We become properly inquisitive only when distressed [and extrapolating from
Descartes] We suffer, therefore we think … we cannot be taught wisdom, we
have to discover it for ourselves by a journey which no one can undertake for us,
an effort which no one can spare us. (De Botton, 1998, pp. 66-67, emphasis
added)
Neither suffering nor undertaking the educational (existential) journey are reflected in contemporary trends in education where the predominant emphasis, both nationally and internationally, is on that which is considered ‘practical’—the acquiring of marketable skills in pursuit of global competitiveness (Ontario Education Ministry, 2019; Sahlberg, 2011). Ironically, this focus on financial aims in education comes at a time when corporate interests are single- mindedly pursuing short-term economic ‘gains’ at great expense to, and degradation of, human 248
and natural environments, and many young people decry this lack of foresight. As evidence of this activist resistance, a class action has been launched by 15 youth representatives from across
Canada arguing that the federal government’s contribution to greenhouse gas and the resulting climate change violates their fundamental rights to ‘life, liberty and security of the person’ under s.7 of the Charter (Woo, 2019; CBC, 2019).
Of course, the increasing instrumentality of education viewed simply as preparation for the labour market and economic growth, is a phenomenon that has been resisted by many educators. In particular, many curriculum studies scholars denounce the increasing disregard for
“the messiness, irreplaceability, un-answerability of human life, of our educational lives together; [where] quick sprints toward ‘profitability’ or productive development are often valued over slow, long efforts at understanding (Quinn & Christodoulou, 2019, pp. 43-44). If monetary considerations continue to be considered of utmost worth in the education system then the study of the traumatic past, which has no connection to economic benefits, will be at risk. Exploring our historical inheritance and seeking present meaning from the traumatic past is the basis of an existential rationale for the study of Indian residential schools, yet this will similarly be in jeopardy if justifications for such an educational endeavour is accorded limited ‘pragmatic’ (i.e. financial) value. Fortunately, at this time, studying the history of Indian residential schools is mandated. While studying the traumatic past has attendant risks, it also has considerable value.
Inherent risks may be mitigated if educators are mindful of the fine line which, according to
Nietzsche (1874b), exists between the possibility of reparation and the concern that the past can become the ‘grave digger of the present’. What is sought through the existential rationale for the study of the traumatic past might be termed resiliency in education literature for it encompasses:
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[The] plastic force of a person, a people, or a culture … of reshaping and
incorporating the past and the foreign, of healing wounds, compensating for what
has been lost, rebuilding shattered forms out of one’s self. There are people who
possess so little of this force that they bleed to death incurably from a single
experience, a single pain, often even from a tender injustice, as from a really small
bloody scratch. (Nietzsche, 1874, para 4)
In contrast, studying the stories of Survivors provides a realistic appreciation of the world wrapped around a core of personal endurance and resilience in the face of tremendous suffering.
Thus, existential understanding through such stories is fundamental to an appreciation for how narratives support and guide us, as: “stories govern us. Memory is powerful. It permits us to change the course of our lives … when we forget, we fail to learn” (Maracle in Kamboureli,
2015, p. 35). To support a greater sense of resiliency, it is important to emphasize that:
No one of us is ever far away from others … when we allow ourselves to hear
each other, we are joined forever. Everyone has a story. That’s what the circle
teaches us. We become better people, a better species, when we take the time to
hear them. That’s how you change the world, really. One story, one voice at a
time. (Wagamese, 2008, p. 203)
Encounters with historical memory can open up ‘external and internal landscapes of unlearning and learning’ (Wang, 2009, p. 83). This is essential to expanding existential understanding so that, “the very hope for a just and compassionate future lies, at least in part, in working through the traumatic catastrophes we have inherited” (Simon, et. al., 2000, p. 6). While these curriculum scholars point the way forward and substantiate the need for such study, educators will find further guidance from TRC practices which not only lay out, but exemplify, steps to be taken on 250
an Indigenous path connecting with the traumatic past and to Survivors’ stories of suffering.
Three following three requirements are drawn from TRC practices and offer a way forward without a paralysis of negative emotional responses or dysfunctional disavowal in the course of such study. These three aspects offer both rationales for, and an educational guide to, the study of the traumatic past:
1) listening attentively—hearing stories of Survivors with one’s whole being;
2) understanding what it means to fully commit to becoming, and being, a witness; and
3) making a choice to act and taking steps toward reconciliation.
The three rationale, set out above, were drawn from TRC practices in the truth and reconciliation process and each will be considered in depth in the following three chapters.
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Chapter 6: Stories and Testimony—Listening To, and Honouring, Survivors
Thank you so much for telling me your story. I’m Honoured (Daniel).
You honoured me by asking to hear it. Telling these stories is how we will create
change. We need to look at the past to teach others our stories and then look
forward, together, with knowledge and healing (April’s Kokum – Betty Ross,
Elder Cross Lake First Nation, Survivor in Robertson and Henderson, 2011, p. 40)
6.1 Introduction
Survivors came forward at TRC hearings to share their childhood experiences as students. Sharing their stories often meant:
reliving horrific memories of abuse, hunger, and neglect. It meant dredging up
painful feelings of loneliness, abandonment, and shame. Many still struggle to
heal deep wounds of the past. Words fail to do justice to their courage in standing
up and speaking out … Survivors shared their memories with Canada and the
world so that the truth could no longer be denied. Survivors also remembered so
that other Canadians could learn from these hard lessons of the past. They want
Canadians to know, to remember, to care, and to change. (TRC, Final Report v.6,
2015, p. 157)
Listening to and honouring the testimony of Survivors and their story of the traumatic past, has become the responsibility of the current generation of Canadians—we who reap the benefits of past injustices toward Indigenous Peoples. Contemporary society rests upon a foundation of those who suffered in the past and the traumatic impacts inevitably leech into the national psyche. Even for those who had no direct involvement in the events depicted, or who were ‘born later,’ there is an obligation to hear and remember. There is also significant educative value that 252
is even more pronounced in any society where historic actions continue to impact present circumstances and where future direction requires a response to traumatic events in a nation’s past. The primary focus of hearing witness testimony is neither establishing facts nor an intellectualization of the events communicated. Rather these victims’ narratives highlight the emotional impact of the speaker’s life experiences and the subsequent effect upon the listeners.
What is learned from the traumatic past is that “difficult intellectual and existential questions … are not easily resolved through a strict knowledge approach” (Tarc, 2013, p. 384). Sharing and listening become not only an ethical obligation but also a grounding where victim or Survivor stories generate a visceral response to the traumatic past.
The turn to memory and its relationship to history is a necessary focus of study according to Dominick La Capra (1998) even though the significance of traumatic events in history is often repressed by victims and negated by perpetrators and bystanders who seek to avoid the risk of remembering or revisiting the traumatic past. Dredging up and exploring historic human rights abuses challenges comfortable beliefs and unsettles national identity by contesting “narcissistic investments and desired self-images, including—especially with respect to the Shoah—the image of Western civilization itself as the bastion of elevated values if not the high point in the evolution of humanity” (La Capra, 1998, p. 9). For Canadians, the history of Indian residential schools and the disclosure of cultural genocide has performed a similar role by unsettling our national identity. Such disturbance of national identity is equivalent to the impact of the
Holocaust upon some European countries. TRC hearings disclosed formerly repressed or denied trauma resulting from the physical, emotional and sexual abuse of children. Survivors’ oral testimonies, heard as part of TRC public sharing, along with written testimonial accounts have entered the curriculum because ignoring our traumatic past denies the meaning that can be drawn 253
from these events. ‘Voices’ of Survivors offer something significantly more than documentary knowledge. Such stories are an attempt to understand the emotionally laden life experiences and aftermath of those who have been victimized by the society in which one lives (La Capra, 2001).
6.2 The Importance of Hearing Survivor Stories and Witness Testimony
In studying the history of Indian residential schools, we need to listen carefully to
Indigenous voices, particularly to Survivors who share first-hand accounts of their traumatic experiences. Drew Taylor (2017), an Ojibway playwright from Curve Lake reserve in Ontario, states that:
One of the most surprising things I learned in my research is that many residential
school survivors aren’t looking for vengeance or retribution. They just want to be
heard. They just want to be believed. And that’s what Johnny my central character
wants … to hear the man acknowledge and own up to his actions. (Taylor, 2017,
pp. viii-ix)
In Taylor’s play, when ‘Johnny Indian’ is asked if she (the character is a she) has any proof or corroboration, she responds, “No proof. No other witnesses. Just me. And the Assistant Bishop advises that: “Allegations like yours have to have some basis in truth—some evidence. We’re not handing out blank cheques or apologies to whoever walks through the door” and Johnny responds, “I told you. I don’t want any money. Or an apology … I want acknowledgement … that I’m me. Me! … I don’t want to be a ghost anymore. I want to exist. To be seen. To be noticed. To be acknowledged by you. And to have you admit what you’ve done” (Taylor, 2017, pp. 41-42). Towards the end of the play, the Assistant Bishop asks, “When you came in here, what exactly did you expect of me? And Johnny responds: “I expected the truth” (Taylor, 2017,
72). This play, loosely based on Ariel Dorfman’s Death and the Maiden (1992), relocates the 254
focus from a victim confronting a former South American regime member for acts of sexual torture, to the Canadian context and allegations of physical and sexual abuse in an Indian residential school context. Johnny confronts the church member who had sexually abused her as a child. Although fictional, the dramatic dialogue provides substantial insight into the need for victims to be heard and the necessity to bring awareness to unacknowledged crimes as a prerequisite for both personal and relational healing. This interaction between ‘the one harmed’ and ‘the one who was either directly responsible or complicit in that harm’ brings to light the intense need to be heard and believed.
There are those who prefer to leave the past in the past believing it is better not to revisit evil done in former times. However, it is clear this is not possible when traumatic events in history continue to haunt the present. When past harms are glossed over, or genocidal actions forgotten, then this ‘forgetting’ becomes in itself a harsh repetition or echo of the initial dehumanization of victims and acts of extermination (La Capra, 1998). The ethical obligation to victims, is even more pronounced in respect to Survivors who seek to be heard. Survivors need to name and share their own direct experiences of suffering also speak to the aftershocks this trauma has had on others including the toll on family members (inter-generational harms) and the ongoing negative impacts on Indigenous communities. Grand Chief Edward John speaking for the First Nation’s Task Force (1992) stated: “We are hurt, devastated and outraged. The effects of the Indian residential school system is like a disease ripping through our communities” (John in Milloy, 2015, p. 295). Yet for decades before the formation of the TRC, the federal government failed to respond to calls from Indigenous communities to be heard. The government consistently refused to establish a public inquiry or even to acknowledge or accept any responsibility for the ongoing harms. Community dysfunction was rationalized as a ‘lack of 255
adjustment’ to civilization so that now “Aboriginal people (were) sick not savage, (and therefore) in need of psychological, rather than theological, salvation” (Milloy, 2015, p. 302). The government was determined to ‘kill’ the past because, if the historic roots were explored:
[it] would inevitably turn the light of inquiry back onto the source of the
contagion—on the ‘civilized’—on Canadian society, on Christian evangelism, and
on the racist policies of its institutional expressions in church, government, and
Department. Those are the sites that produced the residential schools … an act of
profound cruelty rooted in non-Aboriginal pride and intolerance and in the
certitude and insularity of purported cultural superiority. (Milloy, 2015, p. 302)
Establishing the TRC was vital because it provided a public forum, an opportunity for a wider
Canadian audience to hear the witnesses and to learn, often for the first time, about the traumatic past within their own country.
The TRC was mandated to contribute to the process of truth, healing and reconciliation in the aftermath of the Indian residential schools in Canada. The TRC drew upon practices founded on Indigenous oral traditions and ceremony. At public events ‘truth-telling spaces’ were created to acknowledge the lived experiences of Survivors and to foster their healing. In addition,
Canadians were educated about their history. Both listening and educating were central aims of the TRC mandate (Gaudet & Martin/Wapistan, 2017).
After the resignation of the initial TRC committee and chair (CBC, 2008), the TRC was reconstituted and reconvened on July 1, 2009 with the espoused aim of contributing to the rebuilding and renewing of relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians.
Roger Simon at this new beginning was ‘hopeful’ but also concerned as to whether this lofty mandate of promoting awareness and public education could be fulfilled in a way that was 256
respectful of Survivors and their stories. At stake was whether or not Canadians would recognize that the “structured inequality and legacy of violence initiated by its colonial past has yet to be resolved in a way that could enable us to become a truly just society” (Simon, 2013, p. 129).
Public history is fundamental to any nation, yet it is so much more than learning “about” history, it is also learning “from” history. At the centre of the TRC process were the stories of
Survivors—the deep traumatic pain, the suffering and loss, experienced as students during their school years. Unfortunately, in the aftermath, when individuals returned to their families and communities the harms continued to be perpetuated. Despite these hardships and the trauma resulting from colonial policies and the enforced system of Indian residential schools, education continues to be regarded as a necessary way forward for Indigenous Peoples. As Donald Worme,
Cree lawyer and former Chief Council of the TRC stated:
There is no Aboriginal person that I know of who has not been touched by the
tragedy of the residential school catastrophe and all of the other ills that has
brought to our communities … We often hear that some of our ancestors stated
that education is our new buffalo. It’s an absolute must. We must understand the
tools of the settler society, their culture, so we can take from it the good things
and use them together with our own talents, our own culture and laws.
(Friedmann-Conrad, 2010, para 18-20)
If education is identified as the ‘new buffalo’ for Indigenous Peoples, then the mirror principle or corresponding educational opportunity for non-Aboriginal Canadians is to be found in the TRC principles—the need to listen, to hear, and to learn from Indigenous Peoples, particularly from
Survivor narratives, and to find a way to incorporate these stories into ones’ life in a positive way. Survivors’ voices have great relevance and should be accorded a prominent place in 257
Canadian education as these stories of the traumatic past continue to be deeply relevant to contemporary society. The study of these narratives in respect to education generally, and curriculum studies specifically, is of utmost importance and well justified given that curriculum scholars must always take seriously the education issues of their own time and their own place
(Pinar et. al., 2008, p. 864).
6.2.1 Sharing Traumatic Narratives: The Resilience and Courage of Survivors
Lee Maracle witnessed the presentation of the TRC Report (Summary) on June 2, 2015.
She and others in attendance wept openly because: “We could not bear to hear it, but we knew it needed to be said. We could not bear the pain of hearing it because then the reality would become so powerful” (Maracle, 2015, para 1). Hannah Arendt contends that all sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story or tell a story about them. In fact, it is through story making that meaning is revealed particularly in the case where there is intense suffering which would otherwise “remain an unbearable sequence of sheer happenings” (Arendt, 1968, p. 104). The fundamental importance of such stories according to Arendt is that they reveal meaning to the listener without committing the error of defining it (Arendt, 1968, p. 105). Prior to the establishment of the TRC, Survivors were silenced and provided with no opportunity to share their narratives of suffering and injustice. Paulo Freire (2006) identified that when people are marginalized, they often internalize the historical narratives and also the culture and meaning of life’s experiences from the dominant group, which effectively prevents them from telling their own stories. This is exemplified in respect to Survivors because it was only when they formed grassroots support groups that the necessary space was created for them to tell their personal stories of trauma. It was through these groups that the shared experience of victimization was first revealed. Long before either the Aboriginal Healing Foundation (1998-2014) or the Legacy 258
of Hope Foundation (2000-ongoing) were founded, sharing stories forged a vital link between
Survivors, generating the basis for political advocacy and legal action. In being ‘heard,’ there was not only healing but also a realized commonality of experience leading to solidarity and a commitment toward initiating positive actions. When litigation was successfully launched against both church and state, the basis for the class action law suit was established, ultimately culminating in a resolution which included the formation of the TRC (Moran, 2014).
The TRC provided a much-needed “place for those who have been affected by the schools to stand in dignity, to remember, to voice their sorrow and anger and to be listened to with respect” (Milloy, 1999, p. 305). The importance of honouring through hearing and learning from Survivor narratives has deep resonance, and many parallels, with Indigenous approaches to education where story has traditionally been a means to assist others to learn (Kovach, 2012). By the time the work of the TRC had concluded, it was evident that it was no longer sufficient for the stories of Survivors to be heard only within Indigenous communities, nor could Canadian society expect that local, community-based healing initiatives would suffice. As has been emphasized repeatedly by the TRC Chair, “reconciliation is not an “Aboriginal problem it is a
Canadian problem. It involves all of us” (Sinclair, 2015, n.p.). The TRC provided essential first steps for Canadians to truly listen and learn from the past—to hear Survivor testimony and commit to address past harms and to work to re-build the trust necessary for future relationships.
6.2.2 Understanding Curriculum Through Traumatic Testimony
In respect to curriculum studies circa 1990’s, three streams of scholarship in respect to biographical and autobiographical text were identified: a) autobiographical theory and practice; b) feminist autobiography; and c) teacher’s biography and autobiography (Pinar et. al., 2008,
516). In the current era, which is increasingly focused on traumatic events and where memory 259
work and Survivor accounts play a more crucial role in education, a fourth stream of ‘traumatic testimony’ could be added to both Canadian and international curriculum scholarship. Educative possibilities arise from actively listening to such narratives when there is a corresponding commitment to incorporate these stories in one’s own life. “Especially during the most recent generations, testimonies have come into special prominence, forming a genre that cuts across the oral and the written … besides its possible evidentiary value, giving testimony may itself be crucial to working through trauma and its symptoms, and … the desire (in an oft-repeated phrase) to tell one’s story” (La Capra, 2016, 381). The orality of Survivor testimony, which is far less focused on text, creates a unique stream of curriculum study. It is the curriculum of lived experience that addresses the question: “What knowledge is of most worth?” by understanding that both attending to the “Other” and to one’s own personal responsibility based on this relationship must be paramount considerations in education. Oral history enables teachers and students to acknowledge people who have been ignored or purposefully silenced in the past particularly emphasizing those historical accounts which represent difficult knowledge in the present. However, “it is only in the last 10-15 years that oral tradition, testimony and life histories have become an integral part of educational programming (Llewellyn & Ng-A-Fook,
2007, 4). Such testimony challenges what we understand of the world and through this unsettling, the sharing of traumatic narratives can fundamentally transform what we make of ourselves in response.
6.3 Stories as a Gift
According to Simon (2005), history can be thought of as an agreement between past generations and the present. To fulfil this agreement, one does not only grasp onto “a particular historic truth, which may be then subjected to verification, explanation and judgment, but it also 260
means apprehending these words and images as a transitive bearing of witness, the constitution of testament as gift, a provision of the possibility of inheritance with all its disruptive risks and possibilities" (Simon: 2005, 8). Hearing and learning from Survivor testimony may be a ‘gift’ but only if citizens forgo the past ‘forgetting’ which has historically served the needs of the
Canadian nation (Dion: 2009, 3). However, when an individual or a nation becomes dedicated to the practices of remembrance of traumatic history it is a practice understandably viewed by some with critical skepticism and a simultaneous concern that it is socially unwise due to the potential for fueling further social division and even violence based on memories of victimization, rather than offering the possibility of a reconciled future (Simons et. al., 2000, 1). The impact stories will have is always an open question, recognizing that some narratives have the potential to heal, bring people together, and promote reconciliation and yet there is also considerable evidence of stories that create rifts between people and exacerbate ongoing enmities (MacMillan, 2008;
Paris, 2000; Rieff, 2016). Yet attention to stories of past human suffering can be seen as a necessary obligation despite attendant risks. Theodor Adorno argues that the destruction of memory is a further act of evil and forgetting is not an option, for otherwise “the murdered are to be cheated out of the single remaining thing that our powerlessness (to help them) can offer them: remembrance” (Theodor Adorno In Tiedemann (Ed.), 2003, 5).
If the risk of remembrance is accepted, what is the purpose and potential of Survivor narratives? They certainly increase our understanding of Canada’s colonial history and establish the basis for why things are the way they are today. Survivor testimony may also inform our lives as these stories can provide people with a sense of what they must do in life (MacIntyre,
2007). Stories are often considered to be the animating breath of our existence for human nature is governed by narratives. “Human life depends on the stories that are told—the sense of self that 261
the stories impart and the relationships that are constructed around shared stories—the sense of purpose that stories can provide or foreclose. Stories instigate and can mobilize social movements … a good life requires living well with stories” (Frank, 2010, 3). The stories that are told, in education and in other contexts, will guide one’s actions in life because stories affect all aspects of our life and identity: how we think, how we know, how we perceive and how we place ourselves within our particular context of place and time (history). Yet stories never resolve all the questions raised, for their work is ultimately to remind us, we have to live with complicated truths (Frank, 2010).
6.4 Active Listening
Stories place a serious obligation on the part of the listener particularly when narratives of the traumatic past are shared. The TRC emphasis on deeply attentive and engaged listening was apparent when they stated: “reconciliation cannot occur without listening, contemplation, meditation and deeper internal deliberation” (TRC Final Report v6, 2015, p. 13). The incredible depth of trauma demands a correspondingly profound level of dedicated attentiveness to the voices of Survivors. Remembering that to ‘listen’, if you scramble the letters of this word is to be
‘silent and “attention may be considered a foundation of Indigenous learning … (and) attention within an Indigenous understanding, has to do with the focus of all the senses. Seeing, listening, feeling, smelling, hearing and intuiting are the senses that are developed and applied in the
Indigenous context of attention … From an Indigenous perspective, true learning and the gain of significant knowledge do not come without sacrifice – even, at times deep wounds” (Cajete,
2016, xv). This commitment to attend to Survivor narratives with respect, is matched by an equivalent responsibility to also listen to the stories of those in other subject positions such as the perpetrators and bystanders (La Capra, 2016; Niezen, 2013; 2017). “Respect means you listen 262
intently to others’ ideas, that you do not insist that your ideas prevail. By listening intently you show honor, consider the well-being of others, and treat others with kindness and courtesy”
(Steinhauer, 2002, 73).
To truly ‘hear’ traumatic narratives, deep or active listening is required—extending one’s ear and seeking to build a strong connection with the Other. It must be understood that silence is not a passive stance, rather deep listening fosters what Roger Simon and Claudia Eppert (1997) call a ‘community of memory’ in a classroom, where students and teachers listen to each other and to testimonies, not simply to learn facts about the past but also for how they will be called upon to become a witness to the historical harms and what is required of them as an ethical response. It is a dialogue with the past; the dialogue of the student with the self; the discovery of the other (Llewelyn & Cook, 2017, 27). Approaches to Indigenous education have always highlighted the importance of active listening, the engagement of one’s whole being. This is a stance that requires listeners to engage, digest, and then integrate teachings into action and practice so as to enhance one’s way of being in, and interacting with, the world (Whitlow et. al.,
2019, 559).
Listening is a way to become an active agent in the truth and reconciliation process.
Writing about her work with Survivors from her own community, scholar Dr. Omas was astounded at how listening impacted her: “I never dreamed of learning to listen in such a powerful way. Storytelling, despite all the struggles, enabled me to respect and honour the
Ancestors and storytellers while at the same time sharing tragic, traumatic, inhumanely unbelievable truths that our people had lived … when we make personal what we teach … we touch people in a different and more profound way” (TRC, Final Report v.6, 2015, 166). The
TRC was committed to the principle that through hearing the voices of Survivors, Canada could 263
become a better place. The necessity of listening deeply and profoundly to Survivors’ life stories, acknowledging the person’s dignity in their telling of the injustices committed enables Canadians to “risk interacting differently with Indigenous people—with vulnerability, humility, and a willingness to stay in the decolonizing struggle of our own discomfort … (and) to embrace
(residential school) stories as powerful teachings—disquieting moments (that) can change our beliefs, attitudes and actions” (TRC Final Report v.6, 2015, 167-168). Through remembrance of past trauma and by listening attentively to Survivor testimony, the individual can experience a profound transformation. This was even evident for the TRC Commissioners themselves, when they disclosed they had become ‘changed people,’ forever altered by the testimony they had heard (TRC Final Report v. 6, 2015, 172).
Education based on the personal narratives of Survivors must be first and foremost founded on the need to respectfully hear and reflect upon the stories of others. While this has the potential to be a pivotal or life-changing experience, it is challenging as the personal narratives are traumatic in nature and pose an unsettling of one’s own life experience. Still, listening is the only way to engage empathetically and to build a foundation upon which to address ‘relational’ peace and address the harms of past violence. Moore (2017) identifies that the prime task of the teacher is to hear and bear witness, and this is done most effectively through the sharing of stories: “Today I realized that in addition to our responsibility to tell the truth, we also have a responsibility to provide the opportunities to break the silence, so these truths can be told. Is that what healing is about? Is it telling the story and having it heard? (Ibid., 58). Addressing the legacy of the Indian residential school system is a complex issue and “it is only through the widespread recognition of injustices perpetuated through both negative actions and neglect by the Canadian government that reconciliation can be achieved” (Burke et. al. 2017, 110). 264
Adopting an appropriate stance to such study is crucial for “how people learn about historical injustices is as important as learning truths about what happened” (Regan, 2010 11). The transformation of colonizer to ally must begin with the foundation of listening which may form the basis of a commitment to become engaged and willing to take steps towards reconciliation.
“My stories and others’ stories are all necessary so that we can help each other learn not who is right or who knows more, but what really matters. How to be wise, how to listen deeply, how to change ourselves so that we can change the world around us” (Archibald, 2008, 89). The aim of educators and students in this active listening of Survivors testimony, as well as to the stories of elders, is that it should come from an understanding that “learning to listen involves engaging our whole being, using silence not to deny but to welcome and recognize the transformative possibilities of stories we do not want to hear” (Regan, 2010, 191-192). For it is only when we truly ‘hear’ the voices of those who speak of the traumatic past that decisions can be made about how these stories will influence our choices and how we choose to live our life.
6.4.1 Cautions
While it is important to listen to Survivor stories, intently and respectfully, there can be no expectation of understanding as “some histories—especially the testimonies of violence, trauma and suffering from which histories are made—should not be “understood” (Hillberg,
1996 in Yoder & Strong-Wilson, 2017, 88). While it is possible for students to ‘understand’ a math lesson and this may be required to move on to the next lesson, there can be no similar expectation when students hear the voices of Survivors. These testimonies, and the events that precipitated them, confound and deny understanding. The only realization that can be reached is that “in the face of tragedies of monumental scale, such ‘understanding’ may not be ours to render … recognition rather than understanding (may) serve as a more responsible pedagogical 265
orientation when teaching stories of trauma” (Yoder & Strong-Wilson, 2017, 88-89). Historic testimonies of trauma found in narratives of inhumanity and the legacy of injustice are often so inconceivable as to place a burden on the listener that can be almost overwhelming to the human psyche. This has been recognized by previous writers, such as Adler who spoke of Holocaust studies and stated “there is only recognition, perhaps also a grasp, but certainly no understanding
(Hilberg, 1996, 202-203) as it is impossible to ever fully take-in and assimilate the magnitude and horrors of the Holocaust—recognition alone is possible. Similarly, in learning about the history of Indian residential schools, the stories of trauma defy understanding. For this reason,
Adorno refuses to ‘squeeze meaning out of suffering’ for the traumatic past is not a reparable catastrophe of history” (Tiedemann, 2003, xxv). Yoder and Strong-Wilson (2017) illustrate the difference between understanding and recognition by comparing the negative of each word— misunderstanding and misrecognition. To misunderstand someone or something is to mistake meaning. To misrecognize someone or something is to take the person or idea for something that he/she/it is not. That means to recognize a traumatic event and its aftermath can only amount to a sense of its potency in terms of one’s own emotional response, but it can never be a claim to comprehend its meaning. The crucial step is simply not to deny the traumatic past, nor to engage in voluntary ‘forgetting,’ but to seek out and actively listen to the testimonies of those who experienced the trauma first-hand, the narratives of the Survivors of Indian residential schools.
Māori scholar Robert Joseph writes, “Hearing one another’s stories validates experience and feelings and represents a significant step toward restoration of the injured person and the relationship” (Joseph, 2008, 214). Thus there is a responsibility to make room for and listen with respect to Survivors, for this is the first and necessary step toward reconciliation.
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While the TRC identified the importance of hearing the narratives of Survivors with empathetic understanding, there can be a risk to this approach. It is important to counter-act any tendency towards the perception of Indigenous ‘Others’ as being in need of rescue and to this end Madden (2015, 9) encourages educators to adopt a “two-pronged process that includes investigating colonialism through a historical lens and increasing the presence of Indigenous voices and perspectives through counternarratives … (such as) experiential story-work, (and) residential school survivors’ testimony” (In Aitken & Radford, 2018, 43). Another caution in focusing on the Survivor narratives is that Indigenous people should not be relegated to the past, rather there must always be a simultaneous portrayal of connections to contemporary realities including the present-day resiliency and resurgence of Indigenous people. This is particularly important, given that the histories and school curriculum until recently presented a past that according to King, “trapped Native people in a time warp, it also insisted that our past was all we had. No present. No future. And to believe in such a past is to be dead … (so) Native writers began to use the Native present as a way to resurrect a Native past and to imagine a Native future” (2003, 106).
6.5 Acts of Remembrance: Honouring the Victims
Stories are powerful and tell of many different ‘truths’ but ultimately the aim of stories, even traumatic stories, is to “tell people where they came from, and why they are here, how to live and sometimes how to die (Chamberlin, 2003, 2). Yet many of the voices of Indigenous children were silenced and this tragedy can never be addressed as their life stories have been lost forever. It is said that if someone saves a single life, they save a universe. Equally true is that for every single life lost, a universe of possibility also perishes. So many voices were silenced either as direct victims of Indian residential schools or in the aftermath, that the duty owed and left to 267
the living to carry on, is a memorial (Chambers, 2003, para. 12). The remembrance of the dead is often tied to the identities of individuals for no stories remain. Such remembrance of the dead is often seen as sacred obligation. At Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem, the entrance way is lit by candles of remembrance along with projected photographs of individual victims along with their name and dates of birth and death (if known). The aim is to identify and acknowledge each person despite their fate which was to be murdered by adherents of a political ideology aimed at denying their very individuality and unique humanity. The TRC also engaged in acts of remembrance, highlighting the importance of all victims so they were not forgotten. At every public event, a place of honour was reserved, a vacant space, to acknowledge the children who left for Indian residential schools and never returned home. At the ceremonial end of the
TRC, there was symbolic remembrance of those who had no “voice”—the victims of Indian
Residential Schools—and their absence was recognized physically, where “two seats remained empty in the front row, to symbolize the children who had died in residential schools” (Watters,
2015, para 12) or who had perished in an attempt to escape and return home. Such acts of commemoration can be considered equally important in the curriculum and the inclusion of memorialization enacted by students and teachers, is a meaningful way to acknowledge and honour the victims whose stories have been forever lost but whose importance is honoured.
6.6 Oral History
Why does oral history call on us? What are the educational possibilities of integrating oral history in the curriculum and bringing the voices of the past and of Survivors into the classroom? First and foremost, these narratives create greater awareness of the colonial past and there is a possibility of “disrupting the Eurocentric approaches that otherwise characterize schools” (McGregor & McGregor, 2017, 88). Stories frame what is believed about relationships 268
with Indigenous people in the past, what they are like now and what they could look like in the future. To this end, the stories “become the teachers, not only sources of information … (and) by engaging in and supporting oral history practices, educational leaders might find ways of building relationships that, by extension, advance decolonizing goals for schooling” (McGregor
& McGregor, 2017, 102). These stories also help to balance the curriculum for there is no question that non-Indigenous people in Canada often live with very different stories of the past than those held by Indigenous people. The TRC made this divide readily apparent yet through their work they were able to frame, through witness testimony, a common historic narrative, which created a shared, albeit traumatic, story of the past.
Becoming open to the sharing of stories and the creation of a common understanding was precipitated once Survivors, the former ‘Indigenous Other,’ entered the mainstream of Canadian consciousness. Their stories generated significant resonance in the public sphere and ‘got under the skin’ of the public for there are stories, that once heard are understood “immediately and intuitively, as belonging under one’s skin. Narrative habitus is a disposition to hear some stories as those that one ought to listen to, ought to repeat on appropriate occasions, and ought to be guided by” (Frank in McGregor & McGregor, 2017, 53). The TRC was a space in the wider community, where stories could transform the hidden trauma of individual suffering and the ongoing harms perpetuated by colonial policies, and launch these narratives from the traumatic past into a public forum. This enabled a revision of the national narrative not only for those who attended but to a wider audience through media exposure. As a result the nation as a whole was impacted by listening to the voices, to the tearful and emotional outpouring and the public airing of these stories, was vital. While the focus was on individuals, it was understood that this sharing was also an integral part of two larger communities on the path to reconciliation—one that was 269
grieving and one that was experiencing a national atoning. In this way the work of the TRC met the requirements set by Martha Minow (1998) of a nation ‘facing history’ where “the work must be for, but not only for, the victimized … addressed to but also designed to convert bystanders into actors, agents in their national worlds now and tomorrow” (Minow, 1998, 120-121).
6.7 Public Memory and Orality: To Know the Past Differently
The TRC not only relied extensively upon oral history, it also used the public forums to record oral history as witnessed by all those in attendance. “Public memory is dynamic—it changes over time as new understandings, dialogues, artistic expressions, and commemorations emerge. Public memory, much like national history, is often contentious. Although public memory can simply reinforce the colonial story of how Canada began with European settlement and became a nation, the process of remembering the past together also invites people to question this limited version of history” (TRC Final Report v.6, 2015, 162). Truth commissions in the past have addressed human rights violations committed over a relatively short period of time relative to the work of the TRC where individual and collective harms were perpetrated on
Indigenous peoples for well over a century. The TRC therefore believed it was necessary to explore not only specific incidents through witness statements, but also the preconditions that enabled such systemic violence and oppression to occur for so many decades. In order to correct the written historic records, which have been based upon the documentation of the perpetrators, the TRC gave significant weight and a greater voice to Indigenous oral-based history, legal traditions and memory practices. Great attention was accorded to the unheard and unrecorded versions of history so as to repair the skewed public memory of the past. Without knowing the
‘truth,’ the full story of Survivors and their families as well as the stories of those who worked in the schools—the teachers, the administrators, the cooks, the janitors and their family members— 270
it would not be possible to take steps toward reconciliation. “Canada’s national history must reflect this complex truth so that 50 or 100 years from now, our children’s children and their children will know what happened. They will inherit the responsibility to ensure that it never happens again … In providing their testimonies to the TRC, Survivors reclaimed their rightful place as members of intergenerational communities of memory. They remembered so that their families could understand what happened. They remembered so that their cultures, histories, laws, and nations can once again thrive for the benefit of future generations. They remembered so that Canada will know the truth and never forget” (TRC, Final Report v.6, 2015, 165).
Individually and socially humans are storytelling beings. Narratives provide insight into the way each of us experience the world and therefore listening and incorporating new stories come with inherent risks as each of us live by the stories we have heard or read (Connelly &
Clandinin, 1990). Voice and expression of ‘lived experience’ is critical to narrative. John Ralston
Saul (1995) presents the humanist view of orality—that language is a tool for examining society and an enquiry into meaning making—thus becoming an important weapon against received knowledge and assumptions of established power. As evidence, Saul argues that Socratic questioning and dialogue can be contrast to the rational methods of received wisdom where people are directed what to think or Platonic elitism which uses language as a tool primarily for advancing interests of the powerful through ‘control of communications’ rather than as a means of communication. “As for oral language, it is periodically unleashed as the only force capable of freeing society from the strangling effects of the written and the ideological” (Saul, 1995, 2).
According to Saul, the horrifying events of the Holocaust, were a product of decades of written, intellectual justification, which the rest of society failed to challenge, allowing the specious arguments and superstitions to stand intact. The result was societal acceptance of inhumanity 271
writ large for what is defined to be ‘true’ will be ultimately accepted as inevitable. “Language depends on the use of mutually agreed-upon terms—not because they represent truth, but because they provide a medium for communication” (Saul, 1995, 232). By shaping or re-shaping our understanding of the past, our expectation of what we may be able to do in the future is correspondingly impacted. Students and teachers can come to know the past differently (Farley,
2009), yet this is impossible if Canadians continue to be ignorant of the emotional, physical, mental and spiritual violence endured by students in residential schools or if they remain unaware of the systemic oppression perpetrated on Indigenous peoples throughout colonization.
Yet the transmission of knowledge alone is seldom sufficient to radically unsettle or alter personal narratives. For this reason Survivor stories can play a significant role by exposing students to traumatic narratives that evoke the emotional realm and engage empathetic understanding. It is this personal connection that is absolutely vital to challenging prejudice and creating connection, altering both hearts and minds (Tarc, 2013; Nava, 2007).
Several education writers have identified the need for learners’ knowledge of the world or epistemologies of ignorance to be unsettled or disrupted as an integral component of any anti- colonial education project (Regan, 2010; Tupper, 2011 & 2014). The connection to orality is most evident when new terms are developed to contest previous understandings. One recent example is the use of “settler” to refer to all non-Indigenous Canadians. This term challenges students and teachers to think about their identity as citizens and raises question as to ways colonialism has shaped their understanding of the past. As a result, a deeper consideration of contemporary relationships with Indigenous peoples may be contemplated. While ‘settler’ as a term can evoke negative responses, it may also have the positive result of challenging the predominant narrative of Canada as a historically fair and just nation that embraces difference 272
and diversity. Simply by adopting new terminology personal perceptions of identity may change and the new narratives of the past, acknowledging the violent impact of settler colonialism in
Canada, open up possibilities for more constructive dialogue in the future. Although there are no
‘right versus wrong’ designations, it is the challenging of assumptions that is necessary while acknowledging that “actual interactions between Aboriginal peoples and Canadians were, and continue to be, more complex than colonial binaries can possibly recount” (Donald, 2009, 9). In addition, language can be used to create metaphoric images that alter our perceptions of the past.
For example, the movement beyond a ‘fortress mentality’ (Donald, 2012) may be a compelling representation of the ‘us-them’ stance that has characterized Canada historically. Reflecting upon words and images may elicit the necessary unsettling to “set us on a transformative decolonizing pathway toward just and peaceful relations with Indigenous peoples” (Regan, 2010, 2).
6.8 Ceremony and Orality: Hearing the Voice of the ‘Other’
Deborah Britzman recognized the importance of orality, where voice reflects the meaning that resides within the individual and enables participation in the community (Britzman in
Connelly & Clandinin, 1990, 4). Sharing lived experiences requires establishing relationships of trust where hearing and understanding are social processes based on interpersonal connection. In order to forge relationship between strangers and encourage the deep listening necessary for profound engagement with Survivor narratives the TRC effectively utilized ceremony at all public hearings. This not only reflected Indigenous practice but also helped to “reach across cultures to bridge the divide between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples … (to) connect people, preparing them to listen respectfully to each other in a difficult dialogue. Ceremonies are an affirmation of human dignity; they feed our spirits and comfort us even as they call on us to reimagine or envision finding common ground” (TRC Final Report v.6, 2015, 163). The use of 273
ceremony as part of sharing oral history and Survivor testimony was to enable us to set aside, however briefly, our cynicism, doubts, and disbelief for ceremony has an intangible quality that can ‘console us, educate us, and inspire hope’ and ‘move us from our heads to our hearts’ (Ibid,
163). While ceremonial testifying can transform relationships and enable such testimony it is still according to Roger Simon a “terrible” as in troubling, albeit necessary, gift. While initially external, such narratives become “an encounter with history as a force of inhabitation, a sense of dwelling with the past that instigates an altered way of living with and learning from images and stories that engage not only one’s identities and distinctions, but as well one’s sense of their responsibilities and rights” (Simon, 2013, 136).
6.9 Orality, Meaning and Social Media
In this age of media saturation, the ability to complete and remember sequences of any kind, a particularly human attribute, has become increasingly challenged with “the ultimate sequencing dysfunction (being) the inability to look at one’s life as a meaningful sequence or story” (Basar et. al., 2015, np). While many people struggle to ascribe a story to their lives, as in this age of the internet their lives no longer feel like stories, the narrative drive remains strong based on “the belief that life without a story is not worth living” (Basar et. al., 2015, np). This may account for the greater uptake and appreciation of oral history in North America in recent years. In fact, according to Llewellyn & Ng-A-Fook (2017) oral history is increasingly woven into the fabric of our culture as people connect with the idea that everyone’s story matters.
Historical accounts are often personalized and become more reflective of contemporary society by documenting the past through the lives of the common person rather then through the actions of the powerful elite. Although the definition of oral history may vary from “knowledge about the past that is relayed by word of mouth from one generation to the next” to “the practice of 274
recording, archiving, and analyzing eyewitness testimony and life histories,” the democratizing effect of oral history is noteworthy and there is general agreement that it is a “powerful tool to engage people in the discovery and making of history and in the critical assessment of how stories about the past are created” (Llewellyn, Freund & Reilly (Eds.), 2015, 3). Teaching the history of Indian residential schools using personal narratives has significant legitimacy in contemporary education for “young people in particular, oral history has become part of a confessional culture developed through social media engagement” (Freund, 2014, in Llewellyn
& Ng-A-Fook, 2017, 2). Oral histories and Survivor testimony help to emphasize the individual person behind the traumatic experience and this can be particularly evocative for a generation that records and shares their own daily experiences through social media. It illustrates and supports the legitimacy of such accounts.
Corresponding to the recognition of orality in education are similar developments in law where the legal recognition of oral history requires the government to take such testimony into account when addressing historical harms and in resolving Indigenous land claims. The Supreme
Court of Canada (SCC) decision in the case of Delgamuukw v. British Columbia [1997] 3 SCR
1010 was a land-mark case which over-turned the decision of a trial judge who disregarded oral history and traditional stories, finding they were not credible evidence of land occupation necessary to establish Indigenous title. According to the trial judge such testimony did not convey ‘historic truth’. The SCC rejected this position and stated that “notwithstanding the challenges created by the use of oral histories as proof of historical facts, the laws of evidence must be adapted in order that this type of evidence can be accommodated and placed on an equal footing with the types of historical evidence that courts are familiar with, which largely consists of historical documents” (Delgamuukw, para 87). The SCC therefore accepted the legitimacy of 275
oral history and supported their analysis by referencing the Report of the Royal Commission on
Aboriginal Peoples (1996), vol. 1 (Looking Forward, Looking Back), at 33:
Oral accounts of the past include a good deal of subjective experience. They are not
simply a detached recounting of factual events but, rather, are ‘facts enmeshed in the
stories of a lifetime’. They are also likely to be rooted in particular locations, making
reference to particular families and communities. This contributes to a sense that
there are many histories, each characterized in part by how a people see themselves,
how they define their identity in relation to their environment, and how they express
their uniqueness as a people (Delgamuukw, para. 85).
Oral traditions and testimony were similarly central to the work of TRC and it was the
Survivor testimony that most resonated with the Canadian public. While this may seem unique to
Canada, in fact, oral history which helps to give voice to substantial groups of people who have been largely ignored or silenced in the past is in reality part of a larger global social movement and phenomenon that is helping to ‘democratize’ history and nation-states. (Llewellyn & Ng-A-
Fook, 2017, 3). Of course within Indigenous communities in Canada, oral history has never been forgotten or abandoned as elders have continued to share stories about the past. It is important to acknowledge, however, that one of the most destructive aspects of colonization, implemented through Indian residential schools, was that Indigenous children were systematically denied the use of their mother tongue and the cultural knowledge fused within the Indigenous languages.
The aim was to actively discredit traditional ways of knowing, undermining the stories that were shared in order to live well with others and in respectful relationship on the land. When a group shares a particular culture they share a common meaning field where language communicates 276
meaning through ascribed symbolic representations allowing people to think and to act. “Without these meaningful symbolic models of reality (as realized through language) people have no basis on which to orient their emotions, their thoughts, their actions and their agency forward” (Gehl,
2017, 26). Consequently, one of the most powerful ways for Indigenous people to reconnect is the revitalization of orality and the resurgence of traditional stories: “In oral traditions active listening proves more powerful than the written word—the return to storytelling provides a more powerful engagement with the teller and other listeners … active listening engages the whole being and requires the listener to engage, digest, and then integrate ancestral teachings into actions and practices that modify and improve our way of being in and interacting with the world” (Whitlow et. al., 2019, 559). The oral storytelling method is not only powerful in working with Aboriginal youth, it has also been found to be highly effectively in building relationship and responsibility in non-Aboriginal young people (Whitlow et. al., 2019).
6.10 Conclusion: Stories—Philosophical and Cultural
Indigenous worldviews are exceedingly complex, yet despite this diversity one commonality is the belief and practice that it is through stories and storytelling that societies transmit essential knowledge. It is through stories that Indigenous peoples continue to pass on the cultural framework to promote happy and healthy communities in the present (Kovach,
2010). Orality and the telling of stories have been, and continue to be, integral to Indigenous identity. “The truth about stories is that’s all we are. “You can’t understand the world without telling a story,” the Anishinabe writer Gerald Vizenor tells us. “There isn’t any center to the world but a story.” (In King, 2003, p. 32). Individually, stories provide the narratives of our lives and they aid in understanding others with whom we interact. Woven into this intersubjective network of different stories, are the daily encounters with people who are all in the process of 277
creating their own life story. The métissage of interwoven stories which weave and intermingle are ‘lived’ within the context of the time and space but ultimately the meaning derived from these stories is internal. Each person is the author of their own life recognizing that “we enter upon a stage which we did not design and we find ourselves part of an action that was not of our making” (MacIntyre, 2008, 213). In this current educational context the value of life stories, particularly the testimony of Survivors, acquires a paramount importance in the curriculum. By hearing such testimony of trauma, the listener experiences significant emotional impact and as a result become both a participant and a co-owner of the traumatic event according to Laub (1992):
the emergence of the narrative which is being listened to—and heard—is, therefore
… the “knowing” of the event … the listener, therefore, is a party to the creation of
knowledge de novo. The testimony to the trauma thus includes the hearer, who is, so
to speak, the blank screen on which the event comes to be inscribed for the first time.
By extension, the listener to trauma comes to be a participant and co-owner of the
traumatic event: through his very listening (Laub, 1992, 57)
Although the intent of such study is not to focus unduly on the past, but rather to address present circumstances and change the future, it must be recognized that “for individuals, and even for communities, traumatic violence becomes part of the current human psyche forged by past oppression” (Minow, 1998, 119). Despite the challenges for the listener, these narratives help to connect generations and to encourage a continuous thread extending from the past into the future—connecting the past, present and future generations through the stories that are shared and handed down. Stories therefore become a powerful way to help the listener understand the past and also the environment in which they live (Kovach 2010). Stories are unique from an educational perspective as any meaning derived from stories is inherently personal allowing 278
listeners to come to their decisions and conclusions. An integral part of such narratives is the assurance that there are many different ways of looking at problems and finding solutions.
According to Thomas King stories have preserved the past and helped to provide guidance in the present and there are always new “stories we make up to try to set the world straight” (King,
2003, 60). This can include the addition of post-colonial studies to the university curriculum— new stories—that may help to challenge hegemonic assumptions and power structures (King,
2003). Despite the slightly ironic jab at university studies, King is intensely serious that stories are all we are: “They aren’t just entertainment / Don’t be fooled / They are all we have, you see /
All we have to fight off / Illness and death. You don’t have anything if you don’t have stories”
(King, 2003, 92).
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Chapter 7: The Call to Witness and the Bearing of Witness
For the dead and the living, we must bear witness. For not only are we
responsible for the memories of the dead, we are also responsible for what we are
doing with those memories. (Elie Wiesel, Entrance of the US Holocaust Memorial
Museum, para 3)
By listening to your story, my story can change. By listening to your story, I can
change. (Betsy Annahatak in TRC Principles, 2015, p. 125)
7.1 Importance of Bearing Witness
At each of the public hearings the TRC welcomed a growing circle of dedicated
Honorary Witnesses who publicly affirmed their commitment to officially witness Survivor testimony. Honorary Witnesses pledged to share the stories they heard with others as well as engage in acts of reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people in Canada. The
TRC foresaw that testimonial accounts from Honorary Witnesses would deliver the maximum impact on the greatest number of Canadians. The emphasis on witnesses becoming societal
‘story-keepers’ also recognized the legal and educational traditions of Aboriginal communities in
Canada. On October 15, 2009, the Right Honourable Michaëlle Jean became the first Honorary
Witness. She saw as a way to encourage all Canadians to seize this unique opportunity given to us by the TRC:
To right an historical wrong, to open our hearts, open our minds, and to
acknowledge this horrendous chapter in our collective story … [and to join] your
voices to [all] who are determined to see truth, healing and reconciliation prevail
across our land … for through your commitment, you will help us tear down the
walls of denial and ignorance that perpetuate indifference … through your 280
engagement, you will enable us to begin imagining once again how we can live,
side by side … it is not just a dream, it is a shared responsibility. Let us fulfill it
together (Jean, June 20, 2011).
Opening hearts and minds and the bearing of witness on behalf of victims and survivors has resonated throughout history since the Holocaust. Hédi Fried, a Holocaust survivor, cautioned that without education that engages both the heart and mind there is a risk that past traumatic events can reoccur:
For what has happened once may happen again, not in the same way but with
similar results … new generations must continuously be reminded of former
crimes … but the way in which it is passed on is very important. If knowledge
only addresses the mind, it can be easily forgotten. It must also reach the heart,
where it can awaken emotional learning. (Fried, 2019, pp. 140-142)
There is a parallel between witnessing and education to be found in the offering of a shared subjective opportunity and the personal decision to undertake, “a solitary journey in the company of others” (Pinar, 2009, p. 43). The commitment of the next generation was evident at the TRC hearings when the three youngest Honorary Witnesses, Wab Kinew (descendent of residential school Survivors), Jonathan Sas (descendent of Holocaust survivors) and Eloge Butera (a personal survivor of the Rwandan genocide) gave a joint witness statement on June 3, 2015 that spoke to the linkage between witnessing and a public vow to further ongoing educational efforts:
Our promise to the Survivors is to carry forward their painful stories of enduring
what was an attempt at cultural genocide, to preserve and spread their truth. Our
promise is also to help all non-Indigenous Canadians draw the link between our
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colonial history and the daunting challenges of today, where racism and systemic
discrimination against Aboriginal people persist. We commit to fulfilling these
promises for the rest of our lives (Kinew, Sas & Butera, 2015, para 6).
Former Prime Minister Joe Clark attended the TRC’s regional event in Saskatoon and shared his belief that: “We should not be called honorary witnesses. We should be called honoured witnesses, because we are truly honoured to be part of what you are doing” (Clark in Narine,
2012, para 2). Others agreed that being a TRC Honorary Witness was a profound experience in their lives: “it has indeed been a huge honour: it's completely changed my life and my focus as a citizen of Canada.” (Shelagh Rogers in Metcalfe-Chenail, 2016, p. 183). The words of Honorary
Witnesses at the TRC are an important reminder that teaching for tolerance and advocating activism can only be effective if there is the corresponding work ‘from within’ (Pinar, 2009, p.
39). A key objective of the TRC Settlement Agreement and part of the TRC mandate (TRC
Terms of Reference, 2008, Schedule N) was for the Commission ‘to witness’ in accordance with the “Aboriginal principle of witnessing” (TRC, n.d. Note 1). Marie Wilson (TRC Commissioner) spoke about the role of Honorary Witnesses, stating:
The truth … is that we need help to face up to the facts of the past and [the]
potential of the present and future … we need prominent helpers who will not
only live out their … responsibility to remember what they have learned here, but
who will also commit to taking forward and teaching others and spreading the
word. (Wilson in Narine, 2012, para 4-5)
To this end Education Days became an integral part of each TRC public hearing. Approximately
15,000 young people attended TRC events and these students were asked commit to take back to
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their home schools an account of what they had witnessed and to share Survivor stories. Sharing with fellow students and giving their testimony about the TRC event—the narratives they had heard and the personal impact these stories had—would memorialize this moment and spread the message of Canada’s traumatic past to others.
Yet what exactly does it mean to be a witness? And how does becoming a witness connect to an educational understanding of the traumatic past? To address these questions, one must first appreciate that witnessing has two aspects which the work of the TRC made apparent.
At the outset, Survivors are called upon to share their first-hand testimony of past events either orally in a public setting or through text by writing down their stories of the traumatic past. Then, the next aspect of witnessing, which is of greatest importance for education although less commonly understood, is found in the commitment to listen attentively and to subsequently share what has been heard and experienced. As envisioned by the TRC, those who are to bear witness must as a first step adopt a respectful and non-judgemental attitude in order to become a listening presence for the one who shares their story. In addition, the listener needs to indicate their acceptance of the other’s experience as evidence of their commitment and assurance they will
‘hold’ the story shared by the Survivor. Therefore, the listener must refrain from immediately intervening to comfort or attempting to find ways to ‘fix’ the situation because such actions actually communicate a lack of respect by redirecting the focus of attention onto the one who is hearing the story of trauma, rather than on the one who is sharing their story. Listening with one’s full being (heart and mind) sends a message to the Survivor that they are not alone, and as a fellow human being, you hear their testimony, you ‘see’ them.
Witnessing actively processes the traumatic past, generating personal power and strength through the telling of narratives. Sharing the emotional burden with another person is often 283
found to be profoundly reparative. As story tellers, people have always been witnesses for one another. Witnessing validates the ‘Other’ by offering space for this sharing of trauma testimony.
An attentive presence provides assurance to the speaker that their stories have been heard. The listener, in turn, becomes a memory keeper, an integral part of the encounter. This is a universal concept where societal well-being is promoted through connective networks. Given the affiliation needs of human beings, one of the most damaging behaviours is to disregard or isolate an individual or a group. The reverse is also true. Recognition and acknowledgment are central to the mutual engagement of individuals and a basis for social systems everywhere.
Working from within is necessary to address the injustice in the world and this subjective labour is evident in the vital pledge of bearing witness. Such a commitment is not easy to fulfill.
Shelagh Rogers, OC, the 2nd Honorary Witness of the TRC, expressed that while bearing witness may not always be comfortable, yet the commitment to retell what you have seen and heard is a solemn responsibility for “witnessing is an active verb” (Rogers in Threlfall, 2015, para 9). Prior to sharing her own testimony as an Honorary Witness at the TRC in Ottawa, Rogers had been advised by an Elder to remember the Ojibway word debwewin, meaning ‘speaking from the heart,’ in her sharing because, “it’s not just hearing and seeing, but feeling too” (Rogers in
Threlfall, 2015, para 9-10). When Rogers expressed doubt that she would be able to bear witness as she felt too emotionally overwhelmed from hearing Survivors’ stories to share publicly as a witness, the Elder responded, “the real shame would be to feel no shame. You are beginning a real journey, the longest journey, and that is from the head to the heart” (Joseph, 2013, para 11).
The concept of witnessing as ‘speaking from the heart’ adds complexity to the English definition of the verb ‘to witness’ which means: “to know, be aware of or conscious of, understand, observe, ascertain, learn,” from Proto-Germanic witanan “to have seen,” hence “to know” 284
(Harper, Etymology Dictionary). In a legal or Western sense, witnessing focuses primarily on factual seeing, which is in contrast to the Indigenous prominence given to hearing and responding from the heart, emphasizing the orality of testimony. The distinction is most evident when we take a stance of denial because one can choose not to see for “we have lids on our eyes,
[but] we do not have doors on our ears” (Dunn, 2014, para 10).
When confronted with painful testimony of the traumatic past it is difficult to simply listen to stories of suffering without either turning away or moving immediately to act—to do something. Simply listening does not feel like a natural response for most non-Indigenous people. However, once the testimony of another has been fully heard, there is a further and even more challenging requirement that arises—bearing witness. To bear witness requires integrating the story heard into one’s life and offering personal testimony of the listening experience before any attempts are made to take corrective action. The TRC actively encouraged all those who heard Survivor testimony in any venue, to “see themselves as witnesses, with an obligation to find ways of making reconciliation a concrete reality in their own lives, communities, schools and workplaces” (TRC Final Report, v.6, pp. 7-8). The TRC understood that bearing witness meant to listen and to learn, in order to keep the memory of the traumatic past alive and to share the stories of Survivors as interwoven with the nation’s history. The domino effect of bearing witness and sharing the stories of the traumatic past has the power to expand and impact an increasing circle of people across the nation. By exploring ones’ inner truth and then sharing with others it is possible to transform society. Bearing witness is a way to engage personally and to enter into respectful partnerships, making positive systemic change and reconciliation a more likely reality.
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7.2 The Basis of Bearing Witness
Before considering the connection between bearing witness and education, we need to consider the rationale for becoming a witness to the traumatic past and how this raises questions that explore the depth of what it means to be human. Genocidal acts rely upon the inherent dehumanization of the ‘Other’ and the denial of their worldview. In essence, the Holocaust was
“an assault on the teaching of the Torah that each human being bears the trace of the divine image and is therefore morally and existentially connected to every other human being”
(Patterson, 2007, p. 138). Similarly, Survivor stories reveal not only specific traumatic actions but establish a pattern of behavior that was purposeful in denying young children their unique identity and inherent humanity. The ultimate goal of Indian residential schools was to undermine the worldview and eliminate the entire cultural philosophy, of Indigenous children. While this endeavour failed, and Indigenous Peoples’ life and knowledge has persisted, it is a remnant of what existed prior to colonization. It is this attempt to destroy the essence of a group’s identity, or in the words of Canada’s first Prime Minister, ‘to take the Indian out of the child,’ that is the basis of the indictment of cultural genocide against the Canadian government.
Such egregious acts like the systematic brutalization of children as communicated in
Survivor testimony, create a cumulative impact that calls into question any logical understanding of such actions. The listener, who is transformed into a witness, experiences a conversion that is solidly grounded in Indigenous philosophy premised on the importance of relationship, and embedded in the phrase ‘all my relations,’ where an emphasis on relationality demonstrates a respect for all living things. The governing principles of harmony and mutuality require each person to be accountable for their actions and words and on this basis the well-being of others becomes integral to one’s standing in the community (Settee, 2011). Witnesses as story keepers 286
offer guidance and preserve history based on the tradition of bringing people together with ‘all their relations,’ human and otherwise, and while this is expressed uniquely in each community it is an integral aspect of the worldview of each Indigenous nation. The TRC highlighted these teachings by adapting ceremonial aspects to reflect local traditions and cultural practices where each hearing took place. The TRC also incorporated new rituals such as the ‘gift of tears’ to respectfully acknowledge the emotional ‘offering’ of witnesses, and those who witnessed, to the outpouring of shared traumatic experiences. These rituals honored the human thread binding all who attended the public gatherings and embraced the solidarity of all who were impacted by
Survivor testimony. Practices of remembrance have an educative power through linking meaning and identity in collective rituals. Repetition and ceremonial rituals can help to establish as well as enhance social cohesion. Such acts of remembrance recognize the fundamental importance of relationality and human connection:
Relationship is a key value in Aboriginal cultures; one must at all times recognize
the value of the other and demonstrate respect and willingness to discover and
honour uniqueness in our relationship … [for] in relationship, one must be willing
to take responsibility for the impact of one’s behaviour toward the other, as well
as responsibility for managing and learning from one’s responses to the other’s
behaviours. (Mussell, 2005, p. 336)
We are all implicated by historical trauma. When traumatic events occur and are experienced in our community each person, as a witness, is accountable for the attention they bring to the traumatic past and the learnings they draw from their engagement. Thus:
[A] testament of words and images, not only bear witness to specific histories of
violence and violation but are given over as a difficult inheritance to those called 287
to receive it … [with] the possibility of learning anew how to live in the present
with each other. (Simon, 2005, pp. 4-5)
Working through trauma requires an acceptance of a new reality in which one may find no possibility of closure. We cannot expect to either control or achieve mastery in an authentic encounter with the traumatic past because such events reveal the chasm between what makes sense and the unthinkable realities to which the testimony of the traumatic experiences bears witness. As Caruth (1995) identifies, “trauma cannot be defined by the event itself … [for] trauma occurs when one is confronted with an event that does not correspond with one’s previous idea of the world” (Caruth in Edkins, 2018, p. 432). One such confrontation between beliefs and reality is exemplified in the discovery of a stark divide between two narratives—the account of the Canadian nation as a fair-dealing and benign peacemaker and the previously unknown or unrecognized reality of Canada as a country founded upon the devastation wrought by settler colonialism and genocidal acts. Introducing this starkly dissonant version of the past delivers an intense, and even traumatic, experience for non-Indigenous witnesses (MacDonald,
2019b). An initial response provoked may be shocked silence—a normal reaction to the ‘utter speechlessness’ when hearing about devastating acts of violence. Yet such silence must be broken if the aim of educators is “to instill in the modern conscience a story that many would just as soon forget, but … [we] must remember if there is to be any possibility of a future better than the recent past” (Locke, 2007, p. xi) and as a consequence “to change the world … one person at a time” (Goldenberg & Millen, 2007, p. 3). Some educators may express discomfort in response to the mandate to include the traumatic past in the curriculum due to their unease, not simply with the purpose of such study but also the reality, where:
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[The] dilemma lies in defining the proper response to testimony that speaks of an
unbearable and unanswerable impropriety. If we truly hear the testimony, then we
must submit to its destruction of the possibilities of sensemaking, its destruction
of the myths of modern intellectual and moral progress. In other words, the words
and silence of the victims have leveled a devastating blow against Western
projects of philosophy. (Parker, 2007, p. 111)
When we hear Survivor testimony of the traumatic past and experience the undermining of our previous comfortable beliefs, we may feel the utter inadequacy of any response. Yet, we are compelled ethically to respond, in this time and place, as part of embodied engagement with the world as it exists.
Over two decades ago, the RCAP Report (1996) included an admission that government policies pursued for 150 years were fundamentally wrong. Yet little changed prior to the TRC, leading to increasing frustration in Indigenous communities for “getting people to accept this premise on a wide scale is something we have yet to accomplish, and the rejection of this as truth is the number one reason we have yet to resolve our problems, people to people, nation to nation” (Vowel, 2016, p. 225).
This country is woefully ignorant on a grand scale, and we will never succeed in
building relationships until we address that ignorance. I cannot stress this enough:
without education there can be no justice, and until there is justice there can be no
peace. (Vowel, 2016, p. 230)
On this basis, we need to become more responsible citizens by exploring our personal response within a larger historical context in order to move toward reconciliation. Only when we accept this responsibility will it be possible to address the critical question: To what tasks does our 289
hearing of the testimony direct us? While “some settlers may never be open to engaging with the issues [raised by the TRC] … there is considerable hope that younger generations will, especially if our educational systems adapt for the better” (MacDonald, 2019b, p. 181).
According to the former TRC Chair (Sinclair, 2019), it all begins with how children are educated with respect to the four fundamental questions identified by Plato although similar queries are also recognized as fundamental to living a good life according to Indigenous Elders.
First: Where do I come from? Or from an Indigenous perspective: What is our creation story?
What makes you part of this place? Second: Where am I going? While this query encompasses more prosaic questions which focus on an individual’s future actions, such as: What will I do and be in life? It also seeks answers to more foundational concerns such as: What happens after this life ends? Third: Why am I here? What is my purpose? In the traditional teachings this is a question of relationality, what role the individual will play in the community and in the world.
For some Indigenous People this is intrinsic to the naming ceremony where the spiritual nature and purpose of an infant is first identified. Fourth: Who am I? which Plato says is the most important question. This final question is connected to Indigenous teachings by ascertaining:
Who do I respect or hope to emulate? (Sinclair, 2019; Sinclair, 2019). In addressing these four questions, it is Stoicism, rather than Platonic philosophy, which may have more to offer in the educational context because Stoicism is based upon a foundational premise that everything studied must be useful for living. In respect to bearing witness, Stoic advice about the need to distinguish between what is within our power to influence and what is completely outside of our control is vital, because “one of the first lessons from Stoicism is to focus our attention and efforts where we have the most power and then let the universe run as it will” (Pigliucci, 2017, p.
54). Because the study of Indian residential schools can trigger intense feelings of helplessness 290
that may overwhelm us and result in debilitating resignation or disavowal, adopting a Stoic philosophical approach may be essential to reconciliation efforts. Rather than a resigned acceptance of current conditions, developing the ability to distinguish between internal reactions over which each of us has some control versus externalities where there is only influence, becomes a critical feature of personal agency. A realistic recognition that relatively few things are under our sole control, does not preclude listening attentively to the stories of the traumatic past, nor does it prevent bearing witness because both actions are personal choices within our control.
To reiterate, bearing witness requires listening to the stories of those who have been harmed which triggers a corresponding duty of not remaining silent in the face of the traumatic past (Haque, 2018, paras 1-3). The fundamental obligation is to truly hear Survivors and thereby to discover “that one has also become a witness … [initiating] a chain of testimony-witnessing held together by the bonds of ethics forged in a relation of responsibility and respect” (Simons &
Eppert, 1997, p. 176). Receiving testimony commits us to respond—encouraging us, and at times compelling us, to bear witness to others. Derrida considered the question of bearing witness in some depth
What does ‘I bear witness’ mean? What do I mean when I say, ‘I bear witness’ (for one
only bears witness in the first person)? I mean not ‘I prove,’ but ‘I swear that I have
seen, I have heard, I have touched, I have felt, I have been present’ and ‘I bear
witness’—that means: I affirm (rightly or wrongly, but in all good faith, sincerely)
because I am committed to telling you the truth. (Derrida, 2000, pp. 188-189)
Although we can be receptive to hearing stories of the traumatic past we do not have access to the direct personal experience of the one testifying. We are therefore asked to accept the 291
testimony not on the basis of any rational arguments made, nor by references to facts, but because the person testifying has vowed that they are committed to telling their truth. As Derrida points out, “a mathematician or a physicist, a historian, as such, does not seriously ask me to believe him or her. He (sic) does not appeal in the last analysis to my belief, at the moment when he (sic) presents his conclusions” (Derrida, 2000, p. 189). Rather it is the witness, who asks for belief of what is said. Witnessing means one who attended, who was present and who experienced. The crux and yet also the enigma of witnessing is that while testimony neither establishes, nor even attests to, verifying any proof of the truth there is a common understanding that one’s testimony is given in a faithfulness to ‘telling the truth’ from the heart. To bear witness remains an essential act according to Derrida (2000) because what is far more fearful than the lack of historic accuracy of personal testimony is the silencing of witnesses and the loss of victim’s voices. Such silencing annihilates permanently and victims as a result lose their voice a second time when their stories recounting the traumatic past are no longer told.
Those called to bear witness must determine an appropriate course of action, because if there is no response in the present to the testimony of Survivors’ narratives then the listener is aligning with past bystanders who similarly took no action (Parker, 2007):
In order for us, the inheritors of the testimony, to do right by its witness, we must
hear and accept its imperative and take upon ourselves the burdens of analysis and
judgement … [recognizing] the ethical and intellectual ‘response of no response’
is a disavowal of my duty to respond humanely, an abandonment of my capacity
and obligation to my neighbor. (Parker, 2007, p. 113)
Our obligation, as witnesses, is captured in the two meanings of ‘to bear’ as both pertain to the responsibility of one who bears witness. 292
One must bear (support and endure) the psychic burden of a traumatic history and
acknowledge that memories of violence and injustice press down on one’s sense
of humanity and moral equilibrium. As well, one must bear (carry) and thus
transport and translate stories of past injustices beyond their moment of telling by
taking these stories to another time and space … not only why what one has seen
or heard is worthy of remembrance but also how such remembrance may inform
one’s contemporary perceptions and actions. (Simons & Eppert, 1997, p. 178)
In the aftermath of both Indian residential schools and our colonial past, much more needs to be done to further the work of reconciliation. The pre-eminent requirement however is to hear the testimony and to bear witness. This is the first step in taking a personal stance that is difficult and demanding yet also necessary as a way forward. Similar to lighting a candle that illuminates the darkness and highlights the shadows, bearing witness is a personalization of lighting the way forward. Sharing with others reveals our perception of what was heard as illustrated in our account of Survivors’ stories. After hearing testimonies of the traumatic past, a second aspect of witnessing, in addition to retelling the story and naming what we experience, involves taking a stand and making an intentional statement respecting our present understanding of what we have heard as it relates to our own circumstances. This response—what does this story mean to me in my life—is based on the entirety of one’s lived experience. Thoughtful reflection on the past and on one’s hopes for the future establishes legitimacy to our subsequent testifying to others. In telling of one’s engagement with narratives concerning the traumatic past, our heart-felt disclosures can be rightfully called a sharing of one’s truth. In this sense, to bear witness is a powerful act based upon a full expression of personal agency. From the perspective of Stoic philosophy, choosing one’s stance as an individual is the quintessential discernment. Committing 293
to a position after careful deliberation reflects the exercise of ‘practical wisdom’ recognizing that sharing this commitment with others through witnessing is entirely within one’s power. This is true whether such agency is defined as being an ethical or moral stance or it is considered an act of social justice or political activism. Whether or not our response rests primarily on reason or on emotion, the stance of bearing witness reclaims our personal agency and a sense of ourselves as fully human in the shadow of the traumatic past.
Choosing one’s stance is in stark contrast to succumbing to emotional responses such as:
I am angry! I am overwhelmed with sadness! I am disgusted by, or ashamed of, my nation, my government, or even of myself! Without further reflection and deliberate action, such responses simply express an unrestrained reactiveness which serves no practical, educational, or societal purpose. Some may argue that expressing strong sentiments is necessary to generate the requisite passion or motivation for change. However, this perspective is countered by the observation that emotional responses alone are just as likely to cause momentary discomfort, disavowal and subsequent inaction. An even worse response would be if unfocused anger is unleashed on others with new acts of harm perpetrated. Ultimately feelings of rage, pity, shame, or disgust are impotent in altering the past. While strong emotions naturally surface when hearing victims’ stories and studying the traumatic past, intense feelings are not responses that stand alone. While
“I have a duty to speak out. If something really matters, feelings and reason cannot be decoupled, and the latter promptly ignored” (Pigliucci, 2017, p. 193). On the other hand, bearing witness does not advocate for either repressing emotional responses or favouring dispassionate reason.
Balancing strong emotional responses toward the horrors of past inhumanity with the more significant act of responsibly tackling personal ignorance and envisioning constructive ways forward is the preferable basis for future action. Bearing witness and taking a stance recognizes 294
what is within our control—our thoughts and behaviour—and what is not. Addressing the legacy of the traumatic past, and dismantling colonialist policies and practices, requires a personal commitment focused on doing all that is realistically within our power while recognizing contextual limitations. Acknowledging limitations in one’s sphere of influence is not an act of resignation. Limits are integral to understanding empowerment and personal agency and draw upon the dual aspects of wisdom: Sophia—the ability to understand the nature of the world and
Phronêsis—practical wisdom, which is necessary to make good decisions in life. In wisdom, we balance our life decisions and actions within the pre-determined limitations and constraints of our time and circumstances.
Bearing witness is not a traditional education approach for it is not about presenting factual information, nor is it debating or arguing opinions, rather it involves relating to others and attempting to communicate what has been heard and what this experience has meant for oneself. This is a personal, nuanced articulation of self-examined engagement with the world.
Such an articulation of one’s reaction to, and deliberation upon, witness testimony allows for a lived reconstruction of self-hood in the shadow of the traumatic past. We need not overwhelmed or stymied by our emotional response to past events which cannot be changed. Instead we can engage with current realities based on a realistic appraisal of what can be done to impact the present with an aim and a resolve to alter the situation in the future. Within a post-colonial framework, three strategies identified by Andreotti, in the context of research processes, have parallels with requirements for those who have not directly experienced past traumatic events but who have heard the stories of victims and who now bear witness to others: 1) self-reflexivity— an examination of both ones’ situation and positioning; 2) taking an ethical stance in relation to all communities in which one is engaged or mediates between; and, 3) understanding that 295
communicating one’s truth must always “make explicit the partial, provisional, tentative, equivocal, and situated nature of knowledge construction” (Andreotti, 2011, p. 88). These three requirements, guide those who hear and respond to testimony of the traumatic past and who bear witness and should not be taken as either a critique or commentary on the initial sharing of
Survivors’ narratives based on their personal experiences of Indian residential schools.
Subjective engagement, where one’s inner being is fundamentally challenged by narratives of the ‘Other,’ creates the potential for the alterity. Such provocation is necessary to
‘complicate the self’ to ‘change the world’ (Jay, 2005). In fact, this experience of shattering previous understandings can help us in breaking out of the seductive orientation to which we are beholden” (Aoki in Jones, 2014, p. 20). Encounters with Survivor testimony provides a basis for creating personal meaning through estrangement where the curriculum of lived experience is a crucial site for re/interpretation (Pinar, 2009, p. 3). Such study ‘works from within’ so that outcomes can neither be mandated nor standardized. Although study is always rooted in one’s grounding in this time and in this place, it is in the challenges wrought by alterity that greater awareness and comprehension is elicited. Confronting what is perceived of as ‘other’ challenges yet also enhances self-knowledge which in turn enables a better understanding of others
(Nussbaum, 1997, p. 85). A just and compassionate response to Survivor testimony expects that bearing witness is not only directed toward the historical trauma alone, but also testifies to the impact these stories have had in terms of consequences in the listener’s life (Simon & Eppert,
1997). Witnessing must be understood as more than seeing or hearing without any personal commitment. Sharing what has been experienced requires singularity in response as bearing witness enacts one’s account in a way that speaks to the personal significance of the event. There is also the potential to connect individual witnesses to a larger community, enabling those who 296
bear witness to engage in collective action based on their sharing of testimony. The TRC anticipated that the greatest educational impact would come from the union of retelling Survivor narratives and sharing of one’s response to the humanity in such stories:
Once we see on both levels—seeing in order to experience, interpret, and
understand as well as seeing the human beings we encounter—then we may ‘bear
witness’ [and] … we [educators] would do well to help our students truly to see
others—to complicate their notions of seeing, to urge them to bear witness.
(Dunn, 2014, paras 13-18)
However, one caution in bearing witness to the traumatic past, is to recognize that while people may do evil things, the externalization or personification of evil portrayed in popular culture and religion presents a misleading trope. According to Arendt, a distinguishing feature of people who support regimes of terror, for instance Adolf Eichmann, is a complete lack of thought: “It was this stupidity that was so outrageous. And that was what I actually meant by banality. There’s nothing deep about it—nothing demonic! There’s simply the reluctance ever to imagine what the other person is experiencing” (Arendt, 2013, pp. 47-48). The banality of evil as a refusal to think, is in alignment with a crucial Stoic concept that people don’t do evil on purpose, rather they do such acts out of ignorance. This ‘ignorance’ is not a reference to either intelligence or education per se because “being smart and cultured, in other words, is no assurance of being wise” (Pigliucci, 2017, p. 254), rather it is the conscious refusal to consider the impact of one’s actions on another human being. Frequently:
When we talk of evil, we slide into a fallacy known as ‘reification’ (literally,
making a thing), which means speaking of a concept as if it has some kind of
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mind-independent existence, as if it is in some sense ‘out there’ … but ‘evil’ isn’t
a thing characterized by independent existence. (Pigliucci, 2017, pp. 113-114).
The word ‘evil,’ is actually shorthand for a choice to engage in harmful behaviours that are so egregious in nature as to constitute evil acts. What is most troubling is the virtual non-existence of thinking and lack of empathy which constitutes the banality of evil, when this unwillingness to think is found as an ‘intelligent stupidity,’ exhibited by otherwise perfectly functional human beings. The danger of individuals who perpetrate ‘evil’ is real and cannot be minimized.
Throughout history truly horrific acts are perpetrated by people who refuse to engage in empathetic understanding. This human trait of preferring ignorance is a reality that may not be remedied by either rational argument or a greater accumulation of data for academic knowledge alone offers no surety. Nonetheless, educational efforts must be made for while “academic knowledge is no guarantee of reparation, ignorance ensures the reproduction of the past prejudice” (Pinar, 2009, p. 40). Considering this situation from a Stoic perspective, the only lessons we can derive from the evil actions of others, is ultimately that there are no guarantees of receiving fair treatment in life. Perpetrators, while they can be seen as individuals who simply lack wisdom, are still fully capable of causing tremendous harm through their unthinking actions.
Thus people, and their nations, will continue to be haunted by the spectre of intentional ignorance. However through the study of the repudiated past, and by hearing and bearing witness to victims’ testimony of trauma and the reality of human vulnerability there may be a possible antidote to the perennial non-thinking which has caused so much harm in history.
7.3 Witnessing and Education
Educating children is a way to encourage thinking and begin the pursuit of wisdom. For this reason, the TRC made it a priority to address CMEC in 2012, and every year thereafter, to 298
advocate for curriculum changes, at all grade levels, to reflect a more accurate and inclusive version of Canadian history. Educational changes are essential for reconciliation, particularly when the aim is encouraging mutually respectful relationships between people. The education system is best situated to achieve this significant change in society due to its ability to influence the largest number of future citizens (Sinclair, 2019). In this context, Survivors’ stories create an historical record that alters colonial accounts of the past. These narratives are invaluable for personal study and sharing, which is an approach founded upon traditional Indigenous practices of recounting critical events through story-telling, testimony and witnessing. In what has been called by the TRC ‘a site of conscience,’ this repository of Survivors’ testimonial records, ensures public memory of the traumatic past and provides an ongoing legacy for Canadians. The
TRC’s work, grounded in large part on promoting public awareness, has given a difficult ‘gift’ of testimony to future generations by documenting human rights abuses and systemic violence perpetrated against vulnerable children. These oral and written records bear witness in contemporary times and have become integral to “an evolving, Survivor-centered model of education for reconciliation. Implementing a new approach to public education … [that] will shape how the residential school era is understood and remembered (TRC, Final Report, v.6, p.
151) in Canada. Witnessing is a way to remember and address traumatic events in history that continue to poison relations in the present. Witnessing as an educational endeavour aims to find a path between the extreme of ‘too much memory’ and “the struggle against power [which] is the struggle of memory against forgetting” (Minow, 1998, p. 118) where victims struggle to be heard against dominant forces in society that seek to silence them. To honour the voice of Survivors and to bear witness to the traumatic past requires an awareness of the broader context which encompasses the entire history, and travesty, of settler colonization. 299
Unfortunately, “accepting the call to witness means accepting the possible insufficiency of the terms of one’s own understanding of history” (Simon, 2005, p. 38). Encountering Survivor testimony means being open to the possibility of taking on new responsibility (response/ability) as a listener. It is this openness which enables a deep or profound attestation to what has been personally heard and viscerally experienced. So, what is the role of witnessing in education? It is a way of creating space for reflectivity between an individual (educator/student) and the historical record with which they are confronted. Witnessing is therefore “a process of reflecting on the experience of listening to Survivor stories, as were told to the TRC, and retelling these stories, not to co-opt them in the service of the self but interweaving them with one’s own life stories” (Simon, 2013, p. 136). This is a way, or a process, to convey a personal, subjective experience in a public way, acknowledging the reality that education involves more than your head, it is more than an intellectual project and “one learns through listening … not only with your ears but with your whole being” (Sinclair, 2019, n.p.). The witness response is not inevitable nor predictable because it is always “a particular embodied cognizance within which one becomes aware of, self-present to, and responsible to something/someone beyond oneself”
(Simon 2005, p. 58). Effective engagement with the traumatic past can challenge a student’s understandings, disrupt ignorance, and restructure knowledge, in ways that are crucial for reconciliatory efforts. Not addressing omissions in the historical record, or the exclusion of
Indigenous perspectives in the curriculum, or refusing to include—'to hear’ Survivor testimony, are stances of ignorance that are not innocent but are, in fact, “active production of ‘unknowing’ in order to keep in motion the way things are instead of thinking about the way things could be”
(Tupper, 2014, p. 470). In the words of Jennifer Tupper, to take a stance of ignorance is to be colonial-blind. To maintain an active ignorance supported by discourse that denies the ongoing 300
and continuing harm embedded in settlers’ historic relationships with Indigenous People is to rely on deceptive national narratives, often embedded in the curriculum, that do not account for assimilationist policies so deeply harmful to Indigenous Peoples. Therefore, educators, have a professional and moral obligation to read, review carefully, and take to heart, recommendations of the TRC which relate specifically to education (#62-65, TRC Calls to Action, 2015).
The intent of facing and becoming a witness to our traumatic past is not simply to focus on this history but to work with it in a way that reinterprets what it might mean in the present.
Education aims to provide knowledge that empowers students to become transformative change agents, because: “education is the point at which we decide whether we love the world enough to assume responsibility for it … and education is where we decide whether we love our children enough … to prepare them in advance for [this] task. (Arendt, 2006, p. 193). Education is like the two-faced god Janus, as it looks forward to the future and yet it is also turned to the past, retaining strong connections with the beginnings of knowledge. In this way education provides an opportunity:
To safeguard a space of plurality where new generations can be introduced to the
world as it is and not as some ideology or political movement would want it to be.
Only in such an environment can children be offered the chance to develop the
understanding and judgement necessary for becoming free political actors capable
of taking responsibility for the future of our common world. (Lilja, 2018, p. 539)
Curricula must therefore be developed that reflects the reality of, but does not continue to reinforce, colonial outlooks. Curriculum content along with the practice of educational study has the potential to disrupt the historically dominant national narratives and to confront the forms of
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ignorance that led to the creation of Indian residential schools and other destructive colonial laws and policies in this country.
While it is true to state: we are all treaty people, this phrase must not be used obscure the corresponding harms that arose in Canada’s subsequent colonization. Through the TRC’s truth telling process, the ongoing negative effects of colonialism have been made manifest and educational changes have been mandated facilitate reconciliation. Including Survivor testimony in the curriculum reveals and challenges our existing mind-set and provides opportunities to become a witness to the traumatic past through deeper personal engagement.
Some provinces (Saskatchewan, Nova Scotia, and Manitoba) have developed curricula that revisits treaty relationships and invites students “to think differently about the history of
Canada … to acknowledge and challenge epistemologies of ignorance that often shape relationships with Aboriginal peoples … [and] to foster the difficult dialogues (across communities of difference)” (Tupper, 2014, p. 469). Consequently, students will be exposed to a very different and Indigenous understanding of treaties based on negotiations infused with the sacredness with which First Nations regarded the land. The underlying philosophy of connection establishes how early proposals were based on a “positive, kinship-like relations with the newcomers … creating a partnership in which the two nations would live together, side by side, as siblings” (Stonechild, 2016, p. 119). Such an approach offers one positive alternative to the conflict-saturated narrative of the traumatic past. Treaties were expected to result in peaceful relationships where the parties would consult regularly and be actively involved in decision- making for the benefit of what early Indigenous Peoples identified as a shared ‘sibling’ bond.
Thus, a study of the spirit and intent of early treaty relationships helps create a very different understanding of the commitments made as well as a recognition that “Treaties are living, 302
breathing documents that continue to bind us to promises made generations ago” (Government of
Sask., 2013, p. 3). This is simply one example of how to “provoke a consideration of our responsibilities to the legacy of residential schooling [which] would require asking non-
Aboriginal Canadians to work out where we ‘fit in’ to Aboriginal history, not just where
Aboriginal history fits into the history of Canada” (Simon, 2013, p. 136). Mandating curriculum change initiates new opportunities in our ongoing project of self-understanding in one’s engagement with the world. Yet, as identified by Tetsui Aoki, ultimately “one’s ways of knowing, thinking, and doing flow from who one is” (Aoki in Pinar, 2012, p. 231) and this is clearly evident in our personal choice and commitment to bear witness to the traumatic past.
7.4 Conclusion: Witnessing and the Transition to Reconciliation
According to the TRC, being a witness to Survivors’ stories and bearing witness are equal in importance to the initial testimony given by Survivors who shared their truth of the traumatic past at public hearings. The significance of witnesses and the Indigenous principle of witnessing, while recognized to vary among First Nations, Métis and Inuit Peoples, shares a common understanding that witnesses are essential to building and maintaining relationships.
Witnesses are called to be the keepers of history when an event of historic significance occurs, such as the TRC hearings:
Through witnessing the event or work that is undertaken is validated and provided
legitimacy. The work could not take place without honored and respected guests
to witness it. Witnesses are asked to store and care for the history they witness and
to share it with their own people when they return home. (Dean, 2018, Note 12)
Although far too many Canadians still do not know the legacy of Indian residential schools, the
TRC Reports published at the conclusion of the TRC mandate provide an in-depth record and 303
mark the beginning a new chapter in Canada’s history. This new beginning—an opportunity to look backward and to look forward—is an historic opportunity with education at the forefront.
A moment like this arises very rarely in a country's history. This is a moment for
national reflection and introspection. This is a moment to reflect upon our history,
our relationships and our responsibilities towards each other … to think about the
depth of our commitment to tolerance, respect and inclusiveness and whether we
can do better. We can, and we must. Let's keep expanding the circle of awareness,
understanding responsibility and reconciliation (Governor General Johnston
(Honorary Witness) in Watters, 2015, para 3-6)
Honorary Witness, former Prime Minister Paul Martin, stressed the need for government action:
“We've been living with the consequences of not living up to these issues now for the last 150, more, years. Look, you can't avoid doing the right thing forever” (Martin in Tunney, 2017, para
3). Nonetheless, individuals must also commit to take “the first step—the hardest step—[which] is also unbelievably easy. Reach out to first nations (sic), nearby or far away. Do not wait for
‘government’ to solve deep and systemic problems that, properly, lay with all Canadians”
(Coates & Poelzer, 2018, para 13). Similarly, Sinclair (former TRC Chair), advised non-
Indigenous Canadians to simply, “read the calls to action, understand them as much as you can, select one and see what you can do to make that call to action work” (Mas, 2016, para 13). The
TRC Final Report, while it concerns Indigenous People, is intended to be a legacy document for all Canadians and especially for educators.
Adopting educational practices informed by the TRC, including the hearing of, and attending to, Survivors’ testimonies, the encouragement to bear witness, and the taking of a stance by declaring one’s understanding of (and one’s relation to) the traumatic past are all 304
significant from an educational perspective as well as in furthering reconciliation efforts. This is
“serious learning that requires people to come to grips with their responsibilities if not for, at least to, the legacy of residential schooling” (Simon, 2013, p. 135). This educational approach confronts ignorance by recognizing that practices of remembrance must never distance or sever the relationship between the traumatic past and current responsibility or allow students to hold the misguided view that as “colonial practices of the past [were] not their fault or deed … they bear no responsibility for its consequences” (Simon, 2013, p. 136). In fact, action is required in the present and listening and bearing witness can be a powerful and meaningful reconciliatory effort.
The fact that death camps, genocides, and the travesty of residential schools could happen at all are a significant challenge calling each person to:
a rethinking of basic ideas such as responsibility and testimony and what it means
to be human. And, of course, all of these remain urgent questions for us today …
‘Never Forget’ is more than a slogan. It demands an active practice of bearing
witness … our responsibilities to the past are inextricably linked to our
responsibilities in the present. (Martin, 2019, paras 2, 7 & 9)
In respect to this ‘rethinking,’ artists, who have access to large audiences for their testimony, can bear witness in ways that achieve great visibility through their craft. Art illuminates what would otherwise remain unseen or unrecognized. In this sense, theatre realizes its namesake in being ‘a place of seeing,’ where it is possible to experience an act of public witnessing. One powerful example is found in the musical play “Children of God” which concludes with two of the central characters, a mother and brother, return to the Indian residential school to conduct a ceremony to remember and honour their daughter/sister ‘Julia’ who died and was buried at an Indian 305
residential school without acknowledgement or ceremony. Recalling their Indigenous traditions that have not yet been completely obliterated by their own traumatic pasts as Survivors, they drum and sing to her spirit. Eventually they are joined by the ‘spirits’ of former students (cast members) and then all of the musicians enter the circle and join hands. At this point, the fourth wall of the theatre is broken, and the cast members reach out their hands to the members of the audience and invite them to join in the song of remembrance in order to complete the circle. In the midst of this ceremony the ‘spirit of Julia’, who symbolizes one of the murdered and missing children, whose memory had been purposely obliterated by church and state, is now finally acknowledged. ‘Julia’ smiles her approval upon all the witnesses coming together and participating in this reconciliatory act of bearing witness to her and the other victims and
Survivors (Payette, 2018). In the theatrical notes for Children of God, it states that:
Many Aboriginal communities are still reeling from the impacts of residential
school and are involved in the ongoing processes of healing. It can be traumatic
and draining for these communities to shoulder the sole burden of educating
others about the histories of the residential school system. Educators thus have a
unique opportunity, and indeed a responsibility, to teach young people about this
history. Doing so will help foster a generation of students equipped with this
knowledge, and hopefully encourage a generation of change-makers who will
contribute to the work of healing from this dark legacy … young scholars as
carriers of change—as agents responsible for dismantling the structures that hold
us down and keep us apart from each other. (Diana, in Payette, 2018, p. 91)
Working towards a better world can inspire hope within us when trauma events
leave us feeling hopeless. (Payette, 2018, p. 94) 306
Remembering, hearing the stories of Survivors, becoming a witness and testifying offer significant potential to open up new awareness and thus become important acts of resistance but and the first steps toward reconciliation.
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Chapter 8: Reconciliation and Curriculum
Reconciliation is going to mean so many different things at different levels. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle that is being pieced together, but over time it is going to be brilliant and hopeful. It will set us free. (Robert Joseph in Carr, 2013, pp. 29-30) It is for you and me to take the legacy conferred upon us by the past, give it new and fresh expression in the present, and if our talents permit, for the benefit of the future (Basil Johnston, 2011, p. 198).
Words are not enough, reconciliation requires thoughtful, deliberate and sustained action … all people in Canada must be clear, loud and united in expressing their heartfelt belief that reconciliation must happen in order for it to be effective. (Murray Sinclair, TRC Chair in Montgomery, 2015, para 17-19).
The Anishinaabe people of Turtle Island have a teaching called the Seven Fires Prophecies, which clocks the history of our time on this land, from how we received our earliest teachings, through the arrival of the ‘light-skinned race’ through the loss of our ways …the eighth fire is an extension of the prophecies … that now is the time for the Indigenous people and the settler communities to work together to achieve justice, to live together in a good way (Nolan, 2015, p. 117).
8.1 Introduction
At the Alberta TRC Event, held in March, 2014, Honorary Witness Wab Kinew spoke about the national changes that were giving rise to hope. He carried a sacred pipe noting that the binding of the stem and the bowl offers a model of reconciliation, of two forces coming together to be more powerful than they would be alone. Kinew believed carrying the ceremonial pipe at this event, also:
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sends a message to those who designed the residential school system, that you
have failed. We were abused. Our languages were assaulted. Our families were
harmed, in some cases, irreparably. But we are still here. We are still here … to
see the change that has happened, where today in Canada, there are tens of
thousands of people from all walks of life gathering together to set that right and
to stand up for justice for Indigenous peoples … [where] the old dichotomy of
white people versus Indians no longer applies. (TRC Final Report, 2015, v.6, p.
209-210)
Descendants of Europeans and Indigenous People along with immigrants from every country of the world are part of the national challenge of reconciliation. The initial relationship may have begun between Indigenous peoples and those of European ancestry but now reconciliation must be undertaken by all Canadians (Datta, 2020). The TRC highlighted this mutual commitment of all Canadians as a necessary aspect of the ongoing journey:
We are all in this together. Let us commit to removing the political, economic, and
social barriers that prevent the full realization of that vision [of reconciliation] on
these lands. Let us raise up the residential school Survivors, and their example of
courage, grace, and compassion, in whose footsteps we walk towards … being
respectful—listening to, and learning from, each other; building understanding;
and taking concrete action to improve relationships. (TRC Final Report, 2015 v6,
pp. 209-210)
Inheriting the rights and benefits that Treaty relationships bring requires attending to the corresponding responsibilities and obligations. If reconciliation is to be a possibility then all
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Canadians must commit to ‘look to, and learn from, the past’ and then to take actions: to establish and maintain respectful relationships.
8.2 What is Reconciliation?
The TRC defined reconciliation as follows:
Reconciliation is about establishing and maintaining a mutually respectful
relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples in this country. In
order for that to happen, there has to be awareness of the past, acknowledgement
of the harm that has been inflicted, atonement for the causes, and action to change
behaviour. (TRC Final Report, 2015, v1, pp. 6-7)
Reconciliation is a word with considerable ‘verticality,’ or historical lineage, and as an imprecise term it should not, or perhaps “cannot be used without explication to enlarge its meaning. It must also be recognized as a term that is highly contested, because it is laden with overtones from one religious tradition, Christianity” (Cole, 2007, p. 3). Reconciliation has no single meaning and definitions are highly contextual, therefore it is important to remember that “reconciliation cannot be easily abstracted from the very particular context in which it is rooted” (Zembylas,
Charalambous P & C., 2011, p. 24). What constitutes reconciliation differs from nation to nation, and from person to person, including understandings as diverse “as attempts to improve social relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people; reconciliation as specific calls to action and processes outlined by national governments; [and] reconciliation as healing within our families and communities; reconciliation within ourselves” (Breen, Wilson & DuPré, 2019, p. xi). Reconciliation is therefore best perceived as a dynamic, complex and ongoing process rather than as an end point. In this sense, reconciliation presents a spectrum of possibilities rather than a fixed definition and it is important to be open to engage with differences of meaning rather than 310
push for consensus. Remember the past traumas and harms is a crucial aspect of reconciliation which must never be considered as synonymous with forgetting, even in the long-term context
(Cole, 2007, p. 10). In Canada, reconciliation efforts must also recognize the relational roots connecting a history of colonization to the ongoing Indigenous demands for self-governance, land claims, preservation of language and culture, and environmental protection (Barkaskas and
Buhler, 2017; TRC Final Report v.6, 2015).
Reconciliation is comprised of various actions that shape structural and inter-personal relationships, including awareness and remembrance of the traumatic past, acknowledging past wrongs, taking steps to redress historic harms inflicted, which may continue into the present day, as well as committing to dismantle ongoing systemic inequities. However, to truly understand what reconciliation means in practice, we need to abandon:
the illusion that it is possible to stand above the field and, from this transcendental
view from nowhere, define the essence of these terms … [rather] it is a matter of
finding one’s way in the dense forest of uses and the activities into which they are
woven. This consists in listening carefully, asking questions, using the terms of
reconciliation oneself and speaking truthfully, making mistakes, and learning from
them. (Burrows & Tully, 2018, p. 10)
A definition that serves as an excellent starting place was offered at the TRC’s Saskatchewan
National Event by Dr. John Vissers:
Reconciliation is a conscious act involving two or more parties ... and
reconciliation, of course, must be rooted in truth, in truth that comes from deep
listening and deep respect for the other … [for] the people of Canada, we need to
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listen deeply and profoundly to the stories of Survivors. (Vissers in TRC Final
Report, 2015, v6, p. 171)
While there are at always two parties to reconciliation, settlers have distinct obligations and
“Indigenous scholars, Elders and Knowledge Keepers suggest that reconciliation is primarily a settler responsibility” (Datta, 2020, p. 5). Institutions may have the principal role in addressing systemic inequities, all Canadians, as individuals, are called upon to engage in reconciliation practises in their own daily lives (Morgan, 2017).
Genocidal actions in the past cannot be changed. However, an important justification and essential rationale for the study of the traumatic past, is to educate and thereby support the reconciliation efforts of Canadians today because we are living out the tragic legacy of political decisions made in previous eras. Being attuned to the traumatic past allows for greater receptivity and understanding of more recent events. For example, the blockade of a highway in
Quebec in February 2020 by Mohawks in Kanasatake was intentionally situated near the place where the 1990 barricade were erected in the midst of what was called the ‘Oka crisis’ (Shingler and Montpetit, 2020). Such actions purposefully link present actions to the past in ways that may not be readily apparent to most Canadians. In contrast, the location of this protest had great symbolic significant to Indigenous People by serving as a reminder that what happens today is wholly connected to what has happened in the past.
Returning to the Oka crisis, this incident, along with the failure of the Meech Lake
Accord, led the federal government to establish RCAP in 1991, to study historic relationships between Indigenous People and the government. The result in 1996 was a 3,200 page report and
440 recommendations with a proposed 20-year implementation period (DeGagné, 2001). The report began with an assertion that a ‘great cleansing of the wounds of the past had begun’ and 312
there was hope for new relationships and true partnerships to be formed (Epp, 2008, p. 122). On
January 7, 1998, the federal government issued a Statement of Reconciliation within the official response to RCAP: Gathering Strength: Canada’s Aboriginal action plan (Government of
Canada, 1997), acknowledging the devastation caused by historic relationships and in particular the legacy of Indian residential schools:
Sadly, our history with respect to the treatment of Aboriginal people is not
something in which we can take pride. Attitudes of racial and cultural superiority
led to a suppression of Aboriginal culture and values. As a country, we are
burdened by past actions … one aspect of our relationship with Aboriginal people
over this period that requires particular attention is the Residential School system.
The Government of Canada acknowledges the role it played in the development
and administration of these schools … [for] those who suffered this tragedy at
residential schools, we are deeply sorry (Government of Canada, 1997, pp. 3-4).
Indian residential schools not only caused direct injury to children, they also resulted in serious trans-generational harms, because these, “schools were factories of disability and deviance more than they were halls of learning” (Milloy, 2008, para 31). A significant breach of trust resulted from the active efforts and complicity between the government, courts, and police in establishing these schools, enforcing attendance and in turning a blind eye to the endemic neglect and violence. Therefore, the TRC had to first endeavour to build bridges in order to restore trust beginning with an acknowledgment of the trauma suffered. This was a first step forward on a path to address historical and ongoing injustices. Reconciliation requires significant and concrete efforts in order to create sufficient trust, and “for trust to be established, or re-established, reliable, consistent signals must be given that indicate that the perpetrating group will not repeat 313
the acts that led to a need for reconciliation in the first place” (Cole, 2007, p. 8). To this end, public gestures such as apologies, public acknowledgement of harm, providing a venue to gather victims’ statements through truth-telling, keeping a public record of Survivors testimony (evident in the establishment of TRC and National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation repository at
University of Manitoba), payment of reparations, and public recognition/commemoration are all crucial to support the re-establishment of the necessary level of trust to move forward with reconciliation. Dedicated commitment to all of these actions was necessary because the highest representatives of the state had been complicit in the harms perpetuated. These steps are all indications of what has been termed ‘thick’ reconciliation in transitional justice literature.
Reconciliation generates the expectation of positive changes in society but there is considerable risk of disappointment if truth and reconciliation processes result in empty ritual and government promises that are not kept. For reconciliation efforts to be seen as legitimate movement forward must include creating a more just society and this, “requires an unflinching confrontation with the underlying, chronic injustices faced by [or in] a society and the mobilization of its institutions to address these issues in ways that are distributively and procedurally just, and genuinely inclusive” (Optotow, 2001, p. 167). In Canada, there is the additional concern that reconciliation must not become a mere reframing of historical colonial hierarchies nor support any expectation of assimilation of Indigenous People. In fact, reconciliation as a concept is always troubling if it is used to impose a sense of closure on experiences of colonization that are very much alive and ongoing in present-day policies (Hill &
McCall, 2015, p. vii).
A candid statement by Honorary Witness, Wab Kinew is that “the truth about reconciliation is this: It is not a second chance at assimilation … rather, true reconciliation is a 314
second chance at building a mutually respectful relationship” (In TRC Final Report, 2015 v6, p.
82). Perhaps more forcefully, Taiaiake Alfred expressed his suspicion that the term
‘reconciliation’ is often used as a justification for ‘recolonization,’ because “all that talk about respect and reconciliation is self-serving rhetoric … [it is necessary to] first respect and affirm our Indigenous rights to our lands before real reconciliation is even logically possible (Alfred in
Manuel & Derrikson, 2017, p. 203). Others caution against using language of ‘othering,’ which is divisive, such as “posing the question about reconciliation as a matter of what ‘they’ want— recognition, compensation, land—and what ‘we’ can live with” (Epp, 2008, p. 126, emphasis added). Instead ‘we’, as in all of us, need to engage differently and with new narratives. For example, “we could tell ourselves stories about community and cooperation” (King, 2003, p.
164) and work to lay the groundwork for mutually respectful relationships.
Ultimately, what would be most generative is if reconciliation is seen as a third way forward which is neither divisive nor based on assimilation but adopts an Indigenous worldview where reconciliation “is about living the good life (miyo pimat’siwin) or living collectively within … an ethical relationality like what grounds Nihiyaw (Cree) teachings, practices, ethics and philosophy … how we live together in the best way possible” (Ladner, 2018, p. 245).
Studying our traumatic past is foundational for education in order to encourage concrete steps towards reconciliation based on a deep understanding of history. Such study builds a foundation that enables movement beyond either preservation of the status quo or a pursuit of intangible aspirational goals untethered to reality.
8.3 Reconciliation Reconsidered
Reconciliation is a process, an action, something that must be continually created
and maintained … [it is] finding a way to live together in a mutually agreeable, 315
mutually beneficial manner. In this way, reconciliation begins, not ends, with
acknowledging the past … reconciliation is a process of being and becoming – a
project allowing all peoples and all nations to exist, while determining how it is
that we live together on these Indigenous lands. (Ladner, 2018, pp. 245-246)
The TRC worked to change stereotypical attitudes illustrated by questions such as: Why can’t Aboriginal peoples simply get over it? With ‘it’ representing colonization efforts and the traumatic past. Sharing Survivors’ stories illuminated the massive impact on individual
Survivors, their families, and communities, and this has led to a growing understanding of, and commitment to, the TRC Calls to Action (2015) as a national project for all Canadians. The TRC identified that “reconciliation is about establishing and maintaining a mutually respectful relationship between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples in this country” (TRC Principles,
2015, p. 113). There can be no shortcuts in creating and maintaining respectful relationships
(Sinclair in Turner & Spalding, 2018, p. 263), and education can make a crucial contribution to reconciliation efforts. To this end, the study of the traumatic past and the inclusion of Indigenous perspectives and content cannot be seen as a dispensable frill. Consultation and collaboration with Survivors and Indigenous educators in curriculum development is, in fact, a requirement of the TRC Call to Action #62. As curriculum change continues to be identified as a key aspect of reconciliation there is a need to seek guidance from Indigenous People. For example: “(Basil)
Johnston advocates an intense program of education … to increase our understanding of
Indigenous peoples and cultures… fulfilling one’s responsibility to self and community”
(Murphy, 2018, p. 104). Such educational approaches must include a recognition of rights and responsibilities of all communities within Canada, for as Chief Justice Lamer stated: “Let us face
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it, we are all here to stay” (Delgamuukw, 1997, para 186). A new relationship requires a new vision, however “it is impossible for Indigenous people and Canadians to live together in a mutually agreeable and mutually beneficial manner without a transformation of consciousness”
(Ladner, 2018, p. 248). Such a transformation will only be possible if governments (and citizens) accept mutuality in relationship with Indigenous People and practice ‘power with,’ rather than hierarchical approaches of ‘power over.’
Educational efforts toward reconciliation requires studying the traumatic past as a basis for establishing respectful relationships because “Elders teach that it is impossible to begin again, or to understand the present and to move forward in a good way, without understanding the past.
The problem is, many Canadians live comfortably without knowledge of their own history”
(Ladner, 2018, p. 248). Canadians need to understand that maintaining the status quo effectively means they are continuing to benefit individually and collectively from the dispossession and oppression of Indigenous People. Knowledge of past trauma arising from colonialism is the basis from which to confront, dismantle and reconstruct foundational myths of the nation.
A paradigm shift has begun, and a number of significant court decisions have successfully pushed politicians into addressing issues arising from the colonial past. The signing of the Settlement Agreement and the establishment of the TRC, are two decisive actions precipitated by legal cases. However, greater political will and widespread public support are still needed to maintain the impetus to address outstanding grievances. Steps taken to date are only the beginning and reconciliatory actions will not be effective in the long term without efforts to broaden and deepen public commitment. Only through such commitment will transformative societal change be achieved.
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Honorary witnesses at TRC public hearings played a crucial educational role by generating media attention and this increased public awareness generally and garnered considerable support for the TRC Calls to Action (2015) when these were issued. Yet much work remains in order to advance reconciliation efforts within cultural and educational institutions, professional organizations and amongst representatives of the economic community as well as ordinary citizens.
In respect to education, the commitment of CMEC, which is the highest level of the
Canadian education hierarchy, to mandate inclusion of the history of Indian residential schools was vital. Provincial and territorial governments are now tasked with following through on these commitments and implementing curriculum reform. Higher education institutions that train teachers also have a key role in educational efforts toward reconciliation. While the legal system and subsequent political actions were necessary to frame and initiate reconciliatory efforts the momentum of societal change will be institutional implementation of the TRC Calls to Action, including many education initiatives. Changes in education must be supported by and grounded in the reality of peoples’ lives. Initiatives will therefore require the efforts of “ordinary people at all levels of society—teachers, principals, parents and the students themselves” (Cole, 2007, p.
17). Nonetheless, all of these reconciliation efforts will be to no avail unless we reach out and accept guidance from, Indigenous People whose Knowledge Holders and Elders provide an essential link in the ongoing process of reconciliation. In this respect, the TRC advised that “no dialogue about reconciliation can be undertaken without mutual respect as shown through respect and the honouring of traditional knowledge keepers through protocols and ceremony” (TRC
Final Report 2015, v6, pp. 48-49).
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One crucial aspect of reconciliation is to challenge the popular misconception that reconciliation that it is a definitive resolution rather than being an ongoing process of new beginnings. It is preferable, “if we understood reconciliation not as a means to secure closure— thus fulfilling Canada’s national mythology of progress and inclusion—but rather as a place from which to begin the hard work of rethinking relationships and renegotiating responsibilities”
(Hargreaves & Jefferess, 2015, p. 200). Recognizing reconciliation as an active and dynamic process, requires acknowledgment of human agency and the choice to act individually and collectively to transform society. To this end, Chief Robert Joseph identifies that:
Reconciliation begins with you. Absolutely, only you. You’ve got to give it some
thought … all sectors of society need to be interested in what reconciliation means
to them and their world … Imagine how much more empowered we’d all feel if
we thought we could contribute to reconciliation. (Joseph in Carr, 2013, pp. 29-30)
While there are diverse paths to move beyond the disempowering divisions between
Indigenous and non-Indigenous people in Canada, TRC Honorary Witnesses expressed their belief that this moment was an “opportunity to build a shared future together, one where good relations between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians, replace the fractured and distrustful solitudes that prevail today” (Kinew, Butera & Sas, 2015, para 1). Good relations can seek direction from, and draw upon, wisdom contained in traditional Indigenous “stories [which] tell of transformative change brought about as people worked out a new way to live together in the best way possible, grounded in mutual responsibility, mutual benefits and mutual respect”
(Ladner, 2018, p. 257). Burrows (2018) similarly encourages individuals, as well as the legal profession and Indigenous community leaders, to draw from traditional teachings as a basis for rebuilding and renewal because: 319
stories express generations of knowledge gathered, created, and shared by people
seeking miyo wice’tawin (getting along together or living together with trust and
respect) … Indigenous laws and systems of governance express an understanding
of the way to live best together as people and in relationship to a territory and all
other beings (human and non-human) in a given territory. (Ladner, 2018, p. 251)
Many Indigenous writers express similar understandings of the need to draw on stories, ceremonies, traditional knowledge, and languages to impart a better way to be in relationship with each other and the world (Archibald, 2008; Battiste & Bouvier, 2013; Burrows, 2018;
Davidson & Davidson, 2018; Little Bear; 2000; Moore, 2017; Simpson, 2011). Therefore, to advance reconciliation, educational efforts in the Canadian context require educators to draw guidance from Elders, Knowledge holders, and traditional Indigenous teachings and forge the essential link between reconciliatory efforts and educational endeavours.
8.4 Education for Reconciliation
The Canadian public supports education as a way forward in terms of reconciliation:
First and foremost, it starts with education; there is a broad public consensus on
the importance of learning about the historical abuses and discrimination that
Aboriginal peoples have faced in Canada. Solid majorities also give strong
backing to education-related recommendations of the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission to include mandatory curriculum in all schools to teach about
Aboriginal history and culture. (Neuman, 2016, p. 6)
Including the destructive history of colonialism in curricula is a corrective action which remedies the former reliance on non-Indigenous accounts of the past. However, the cultural and spiritual contributions which inspired Canada as a nation should also be included (Sioui, 2019), as well as 320
the recent moves towards resurgence (Burrows, 2018; Simpson, 2011). For “despite painful experiences Aboriginal peoples have suffered in the past century or more, Aboriginal people still see education as having hope for their future, and they are determined to see education fulfill its promise” (Battiste, 2013, p. 72). Five key areas for curriculum consideration, which are closely inter-woven with reconciliatory efforts, are: 1) Indigenous worldviews; 2) land-based education;
3) treaty-based curriculum; 4) legal perspectives including Indigenous law; and 5) education for de-colonization: becoming an ally. Education drawing upon Indigenous subject matter (content) and approach (pedagogy) is the central matrix for all aspects of curriculum development as part of this rationale of reconciliation to address the traumatic past, including as set out in these five areas. It must be a priority that all such educational endeavours, including curriculum development, require the engagement of Indigenous professionals to ensure content is responsive, reflective, and respectful. In this process of re-visioning curricula, it is imperative to ensure that these changes are truly transformative, for “the ‘add and stir’ model of bringing
Aboriginal education into the curricula, environment, and teaching practices has not achieved the needed change … but rather continues to sustain the superiority of Eurocentric knowledge and processes” (Battiste, 2013, p. 28), so what is needed is something new as exemplified below:
8.4.1 World Views / Indigenous Perspectives
The relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples has been a clash of world-views from the beginning. Without addressing this underlying divide, Canada as a nation will continue to exclude the perspectives and cultural knowledge of Indigenous People and thus continue to be an oppressive force that monopolizes the field of meaning. Indian residential schools are just one stark example of educational practices based on a colonial mind-set premised on beliefs of superiority as evidenced in the enforced teachings of Christianity, foreign 321
languages, and the strict prohibition of any Indigenous cultural practices or beliefs. Establishing a residential school system effectively consolidated the dysfunctional, colonial, relationship adopted by settlers as soon as they had attained a favourable balance of power against the original inhabitants who had thought it would be right and beneficial to share the land with newcomers. These schools were aligned with government policies focused on effacing the
Indigenous world view which is why this repressive system is now called cultural genocide by the TRC using legal principles established by the UN (1948). Recent efforts of resurgence by
Indigenous People seek to restore spiritual beliefs, traditions and ceremonial practices in a revival of cultural meaning systems which are unique and distinct from mainstream worldviews.
Indigenous approaches to knowledge, its origins as well as its value and connection to the community are reflected in this resurgence of Indigenous knowledge systems and are considered a vital counterpart to reconciliation.
Philosophy shapes cultures, and European philosophy dating back to early Grecian philosophers, holds a predominant place in North America, along with the relatively recent addition of various Asian philosophies. What is striking is that Indigenous philosophies continue to be missing despite the fact that there are over three hundred million Indigenous Peoples worldwide (van der Velden, 2018, para 4). While Indigenous beliefs cannot be essentialized, commonly shared understandings can be identified, and these beliefs can offer guidance on contemporary issues. Once example is the destruction of the ecosystem because neither the traditional Western nor Eastern worldviews have been effective in addressing this world crisis.
Of the many distinct Indigenous cultures in Canada there are certain commonalities indicative of a shared global Indigenous philosophical approach including the deep “spiritual connection to their land not found in mainstream Western or Eastern societies … [that] we are not distinct from 322
our planet; we are the world’s children, to learn from it and be raised by it” (van der Velden,
2018, p. 32). Inclusion of this worldview in the curricula across Canada would incorporate an emphasis upon:
Indigenous ways of knowing … [which are] linked to the understanding that we
are all connected to each other. The hierarchical structure of Western worldviews
that places humans on top of the pyramid does not exist. The interdependency with
all things promotes a sense of responsibility and accountability. People respond to
the ecological rhythms and patterns of the land in order to live in harmony (Settee,
2011 in University of Alberta, 2018).
This holistic world view offers a complexity which transcends Western dualism. At the same time as espousing a belief that all things stem from the same source with web-like connected relationships between everything and everyone (Tootoosis, 1988), there is simultaneously a respect of individuality without any adherence to a belief that it is necessary to lose ones’ ego in order to be fulfilled. In fact, children are expected to express their unique gifts as a contribution to the community. Thus, “Indigenous philosophy considers most things as existing on a spectrum, rather than being made of absolute wholes. It also allows for the apparent
‘irrationality’ that everything can be separate and distinct and yet be One at the same time” (van der Velden, 2018, p. 34). Another source of confusion arises when non-Indigenous scholars overlook philosophy such as the wisdom and teachings of Knowledge Keepers which is embedded in and taught through stories (Borrows, 2010). For according to Peter Cole, “we are – our stories” (Cole, 2006, p. xiii) reflecting a very different way of thinking about education and philosophy where ‘knowledge is stories and stories are knowledge’ (Marsden, 2020).
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Education, dominated by a Euro-western paradigm, has excluded the voices of the colonized and Indigenous worldviews. Indigenous epistemologies in particular have been foreclosed by an emphasis on empiricism. Encompassing body, mind, heart, and spirit expands the boundaries of knowing because these are inseparably connected to each other and intrinsic to
Indigenous education and methodologies. For: “voicing traditional Indigenous epistemologies is part of the decolonizing journey, and it can be a pathway of sharing diverse knowledges and worldviews for the common good” (Meyer in Kim, 2018, 107). Indigenous epistemologies are knowledge systems and ways of knowing that include the spirit and sacredness of life (Kovach,
2012). Therefore, educational practices and research must strive to encompass the processes of
‘relational knowing,’ derived from collective, community-based knowledge. Honoring this alternate approach to education and specifically to related research recognizes the importance of place-based understandings and that the deepest knowledge is often of a spiritual nature and accessed through ceremony (Battiste, 2013). The conflict of world views is an intrinsic part of the cultural terrain wrought by colonial processes in Canada (Donald, 2012, p. 106). For this reason, reconciliation efforts require, “seeking to honour meaningful engagements with
Indigenous philosophies and knowledge systems as they are understood and lived by all in relation” (Donald, Geanfield, & Sterenberg, 2012, p. 72). A well-known education scholar Marie
Battiste (2016; 2002; Battiste & Bouvier 2013) describes the importance of legitimating the voices and experiences of Indigenous People and ‘ways of knowing’ in the curriculum as this is an important strategy in decolonizing education.
Incorporating both an Indigenous and Western/Eurocentric worldview in education will be challenging however drawing from both knowledge systems in a meaningful and respectful way has considerable merit (Moore, 2017). Drawing on these two world-views is illustrated by 324
the metaphor of ‘two-eyed seeing,’ a traditional Mi’kmaq understanding of the gift of multiple perspectives. Our two eyes situated beside each other on our face offers a visual image of how one perspective is not higher or lower than the other and both eyes are necessary to provide perspective. Further, these two points of view, while different are equally valid and therefore it is advantageous to combine Indigenous ways of knowing with Euro-Western ways. As noted, it is two-eyed seeing that provides a deepening of perspective in our field of vision (Bartlett et. al.,
2012). Engaging in this co-learning journey recognizes the legitimacy of diverse ways of knowing and enables an appreciation for multiple perspectives. Reconciling, even celebrating, different worldviews has the potential to spark new insights and richer understandings in education in research and in practice.
Throughout history, competing world views strived for space to express cultural well- being within a diversity of cultures recognizing that:
Those who monopolize the field of meaning, and who seek to form a monoculture
of meaning, actually destroy the human spirit of others … [for it is] through
suppressing the ideological and material meaning worlds of Indigenous people,
colonial practices have consequently had a profound impact on the human spirit
within the people (Gehl, 2017, p. 29).
In the past, colonial or assimilationist approaches to education have not only dictated curriculum content but also determined education theory and methods, therefore:
To affect the needed reform, educators need to make a conscious decision to
nurture Indigenous knowledge, its dignity, identity, and integrity by making a
direct change in school philosophy, policy, pedagogy, and practices … [exploring]
what it means to teach in holistic ways. (Battiste, 2013, p. 99) 325
Reconciliation efforts in education will require combining curriculum changes (i.e. study of the traumatic past) with new educational approaches.
Adopting new worldviews, shouldn’t be seen as only have benefits for Indigenous
People, for this is not a one-way relationship and there are advantages for all of Canadians.
Benefits accruing for education found in reconciliatory efforts may actually enhance the existing education system for everyone. Drawing on an example from another societal institutions—law courts—Provincial Court Judge Reilly (retired), who is an out-spoken advocate for challenging systemic problems in the current justice system, has identified that many of the difficulties arise from a worldview that is fundamentally incompatible with Indigenous restorative practices.
Responding to the question as to whether there should be a separate system of justice for
Indigenous peoples in Canada, his response was: “I would rather see a system based on
Indigenous justice concepts that would apply to everyone” (Reilly, 2019, p. 15, emphasis added).
Reilly’s perspective is persuasive for similarly developing an education system based on
Indigenous concepts which would be of benefit to all Canadian students. Leanne Simpson
(2008), describes how Indigenous nations developed non-directive educational approaches based on respect for children as independent human beings who were encouraged to follow their own vision and realize their full potential while also living up to their responsibility to family, community and nation (Simpson, 2008, p.33). Such an approach would enhance educational endeavours if adopted in the course of reconciliation.
Educational efforts in a spirit of reconciliation will require two interconnected and equally important projects. First, reconciliation of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people requires better relationships to be established with each other. Second, reconciliation of both is needed vis à vis the living earth. These two endeavours are “too interdependent and entangled to 326
treat their reconciliation separately, as if they were independent” (Tully, 2018, p. 83). The
Indigenous vision of all life as a ‘sacred circle of interdependent relations’ is one way to rectify the failure, which is intrinsic to modernity, of recognizing the inter-connected, Earth-centred cosmology:
It is not a new vision, in fact, it is ancestral to all human societies: it is the vision
of the Great Sacred Circle of Life. It is all about how and why we must love and
respect our Mother Earth. (Sioui, 2019, p. 7).
Educational changes that include a new respect for Indigenous knowledge and cultural heritages recognize that “educational institutions have a pivotal responsibility in transforming relations”
(Battiste, 2013, p. 71). Inclusion of a shared recognition of land-based traditions and ecological responsibilities in curricula offers the possibility that an essential societal transformation may occur. The current Western mind-set of modernity has created an unsustainable relationship with
‘all our relations’. The extent of abuse to the ‘living earth’ is so extensive, that a multi- disciplinary approach to the environment combining the strength of both perspectives has become “the most important pedagogical task of the twenty-first century, if we are to have a sustainable shared future” (Tully, 2018, p. 86). For this reason, the first educational approach towards reconciliation to be considered is ‘land-based’ education.
8.4.2 Land Based Education
Place based, or land based, education connects students to their natural surroundings and provides a deeper account of history, present relations and future directions by attending to the embedded issues of colonialism and Indigenous rights, because “land education puts Indigenous epistemological and ontological accounts of land at the centre, including Indigenous understandings of land, Indigenous language in relation to land, and Indigenous critiques of 327
settler colonialism (Tuck et. al., 2016, p. 13). Connecting to local (place-based), contextual learning is imperative because non-Indigenous accounts of history have erased Indigenous presence from the land. Such erasure of stories of attachment to a particular place and disconnection from the land continues to harm Indigenous Peoples and “the chances of all people, human and other-than-human, of continuing to have a happy and secure life here, in this land named Canada that we all inhabit together” (Sioui, 2019, p. 5). To reconnect to the land, much could be learned from a process called akinoomaagewin described by Dr. Basil Johnston as meaning, “we learn how to live well by giving our attention to the earth and taking direction from her (in Burrows, 2018, p. 51). Indigenous languages are vital in linking the humans with their environment. For example, “Anishinaabe speakers inhabit a ‘langscape,’ a place where physical space interacts with human observation to give meaning to the natural and human worlds” (Burrows, 2018, p. 51).
Stories, language, and philosophies shape our comprehension and when infused in land- based, experiential education this can create a greater appreciation of the interconnectedness of all life. Educational opportunities that embrace an Indigenous understanding of the spiral process of change and renewal are clearly needed. A fundamental appreciation of nature, where there is always a return with similarity and yet without an equivalency—as exemplified by the seasons – recognizes this complexity where sequential repetition always remains unique. This view may trouble a positivist scientific perspective which seek validity of truths through replication of results however this Indigenous world view is very much in-line with complexity theory in education (Doll in Trueit, 2012; Davis & Sumara, 2008, 2006; Morin, 2008). Once again maintaining allegiance to ‘Two-eyed seeing’ provides for the respectful inclusion of Indigenous knowledge and ways of knowing as a lens and affirming the advantages that come from weaving 328
back and forth between these two traditions because “great possibilities exist for knowledge synergies when people come together to share their wisdom” (Michell, 2013, p. 13). Land-based education may be further deepened when linked to, or interwoven with, traditional stories:
Indigenous ways of knowing are based on the idea that individuals are trained to
understand their environment according to teachings found in stories. These
teachings are developed specifically to describe the collective lived experiences
and date back thousands of years … these experiences come directly from the land
and help shape the codes of conduct for Indigenous societies. A key principle is to
live in balance and maintain peaceful internal and external relations (Settee, 2011
in University of Alberta, 2018, n.p.).
Essential to reconciliation is recognizing this strong connection to, and responsibility for, the land which is so integral to a traditional Indigenous worldview. For: “many Indigenous people around the world, this connection to the land is what reinforces our worldview which provides a framework for ways of coming to know the natural world and ways of expressing and passing on this knowledge (Michell, 2016, p. 22). A land-based perspective encompasses a commitment to environmental stewardship based on recognizing that land is, in essence,
‘borrowed’ from future generations. As land is seen as the heart of creation it cannot be considered a mere commodity to be exploited by the current generation but must be looked after for those who are yet to come (Settee, 2011). Defenders of the Land and Idle No More (2017) are two recent grass-roots Indigenous movements that reflect ongoing anxieties where the political resistance that has emerged is in many ways an expression of intense, “spiritual outrage, a conviction that something essentially and preciously human is put in jeopardy by current laws or
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circumstances” (Chamberlain, 2003, pp. 49-50). The traumatic past in this context relates directly to the protection of the land, where:
Generations of colonial policy have sought to damage Indigenous peoples’
relation to the environment and continue today in a federal disregard for treaty
rights, intergenerational trauma, and a lack of respect for Indigenous lands and
waters on the part of policy makers. (Welham, 2018, p. 67)
As Treaty partners we need to revisit and restore honourable treaty relationships, and this includes the need to respect and emulate the close connection Indigenous People have to the land. From an Indigenous perspective “as human beings we have been given the responsibility to live in balance and harmony with each other and with all creation” (Alfred in Tully, 2018, p. 88).
This emphasis on environmental stewardship can even be found in pre-colonial diplomatic relationships between neighboring Indigenous nations. Agreements not to abuse relationships with the land and non-human relations were already established when the first Europeans arrived as exemplified in the ‘dish with one spoon treaty’ between the Haundenosaunee confederacy and the Nishnaabeg. In this ‘one dish’ Treaty it was understood that the same territory would be shared and “individuals could only take as much as they needed, that they must share everything following Nishnaabeg redistribution of wealth customs” (Simpson, 2008, p. 37). These early treaties reflect the need to limit consumption to needs, and to share with neighbours in order to maintain good relations with each other and to live in balance with the land.
This view of connection, interdependency and shared responsibilities is not new, in fact,
“quite the contrary. The new and unusual view is the one that has been predominant in the
Anthropocene: the independence of human relationships from ecological relationships and from each other” (Tully, 2018, p. 89). Current economic systems are not designed to curb 330
consumption and politicians have failed to either recognize or deal with the immediate peril of environmental degradation or climate change. Given the negative impact of human beings on the environment it may be through efforts of Indigenous People, staging protests and pursuing legal claims to protect their land, that governments are finally spurred into action in the name of reconciliation. Land-based curriculum could include learning about both traditional attitudes toward conservation as well as the current actions being taken by Indigenous People to protect the land.
8.4.3 Treaty Based Education
As long as the sun shines, the grass grows, and rivers flow …
The Sixth Principle of Reconciliation is that: “All Canadians, as Treaty peoples, share responsibility for establishing and maintaining mutually respectful relationships” (TRC
Principles, 2015, p. 4). Revisiting original Treaty relationships founded on respect is a challenge that a number of educational jurisdictions have embraced. In 2008, prior to the TRC, treaty education became mandatory curriculum in Saskatchewan. The Speech from the Crown in 2007 stated: “Treaty education is an important part of forging new ties. There must be an appreciation in the minds of the general public that treaties are living, breathing documents that continue to bind us to promises made generations ago (Government of Saskatchewan, 2013, p. 3). The focus of such study encompasses much more than the written content of numbered Treaties. In fact, treaty-based study is used as an educational opportunity to disrupt dominant narratives by including First Nations and Métis ways of knowing, content and perspectives (Government of
Saskatchewan, 2018). In the final year of the TRC, Nova Scotia signed, on October 1, 2015, a
Treaty Education Memorandum of Understanding (October 1, 2015) with the rationale that
“Treaty education is a vehicle for use to begin the long-term, generational journey toward 331
reconciliation” (Government of Nova Scotia, n.d., para 3). Numerous Indigenous organizations partnered with the Treaty Relations Commission of Manitoba, creating curriculum for the 2017-
2018 school year in order to fulfil, in part, a commitment to ensure that every student in
Manitoba is taught the importance of Treaties and the Treaty relationship (Treaty Relations
Commission of Manitoba, 2020, 1). These efforts are imperative because “Canadian politicians and scholars as well as Canadians in general have poor understanding of Indigenous Treaty making traditions” (Simpson, 2008, p. 31). Treaties were open agreements entered into after understanding one another’s point of view and based on the belief that the relationship would be ongoing, reciprocal and dynamic. Along with identified rights, treaties included corresponding responsibilities to nurture, maintain and respect the relationship which was understood to require commitment and hard work in order to maintain peaceful co-existence for everyone involved.
Many Canadians have a complete misapprehension that the treaty process simply resulted in the ceding of land and the placement of Indigenous People under the authority of the federal government. Indigenous People have a entirely different understanding, based on their own legal traditions, where “the treaty outlines a relationship that when practiced continually and in perpetuity maintains peaceful co-existence, respect and mutual benefit … first and foremost, treaties are about maintaining peace through healthy relationships” (Simpson, 2008, p. 35). Over the years, the traditional treaty making beliefs and worldviews of Indigenous Peoples who entered into these agreements were mis-interpreted. In addition, the terms themselves were often purposely misunderstood and the agreements were perceived as being fixed, non-changing contracts that inordinately favoured settler perspectives. After years of colonization, the
Canadian legal system effectively solidified and entrenched these skewed, one-sided misunderstandings into law. Therefore, in light of reconciliation, it is now necessary to explore 332
Indigenous perspectives on the existing Treaty agreements and Treaty protocols and revisit the
‘original spirit’ of treaty relationships as living agreements in contemporary times.
Borrows (2018) argues that reconciliation efforts across Canada would benefit from
“remembering and practicing the first laws of this country, as embedded in our treaties. A treaty is about respecting our country and supporting each other” (Borrows, 2018, p. 56). Greater insight into treaty making based on Indigenous understandings and world views would not only honour existing treaty relationships, as ‘nation-to-nation’ agreements, but also offers a future vision and prototype for how to maintain separate jurisdictions within shared territory.
Such study does not discount the reality that Canadian Treaties are often evidence of the traumatic past, nor would it displace the inclusion of more troubling narratives in the curriculum such as was set out by Daschuk (2013) in Clearing the plains, where it is apparent that state- supported starvation of Indigenous People allowed Prime Minister John A. MacDonald to realized his national dream of dominion from coast to coast. Many argue that the withholding of promised aid after the bison had been hunted to near extinction meant First Nations people had little choice but to accept the terms of treaties that ultimately led to Western expansion.
Government’s bad faith in negotiating treaties and in choosing expediency over honour in upholding treaty agreements must be acknowledged. Without challenging the dominant narrative of history in the curriculum, schools will continue to be complicit in reproducing the ongoing process of colonialism. In the course of his review of Canadian history, Manuel (2017) highlights the travesty arising from entering into treaties given that the land mass allocated to Indigenous
People was reduced to a tiny percentage of “only 0.2 per cent of the landmass of Canada—the territory of our existing reserves—with the settlers claiming 99.8 per cent for themselves”
(Manuel, 2017, p. 70). This inequity in sharing land and resources has resulted in poverty, 333
‘dependency and despair’ and the ‘deadening weight of the colonialism that causes it’ (Manuel,
2017, pp. 70-71). Manuel concludes:
When they stole our land, they stole our past and our future and they made us into
figures of contempt, beggars on our own land. The fight for our land is our fight
against racism and a fight to reclaim our past and future. (Manuel, 2017, p. 80)
Revisiting treaty relationships and the traumatic past will both inform and disrupt students’ understanding of history, but revisioning what treaties might mean in the present can at the same time provide a way forward (Burrow, 2018). Treaty education and relationships may be a starting point. In fact, this explains:
Harold Cardinal’s reference to the treaties as a ‘Magna Carta’ … he is saying is
that all peoples have principles so core that to violate them is virtually unthinkable
… right now, settlers do not see treaties in the same way. They are considered to
be relatively insignificant in the story of our country. (Asch, 2018, 41)
Disregarding existing treaties and minimizing the importance of treaty-making is a perspective that must change in Canada so that Treaties become a core part of our nation’s history, legal structure and contemporary national narrative. Treaty education can help this become a reality.
8.4.4 Legal Perspectives and Obligations
Including an understanding of the traumatic past from a legal perspective in the curriculum, increases awareness of historic events and enables us to better navigate current realities rooted in the past. This includes the challenge of advancing reconciliation. Despite past failures the court’s aim is to provide a forum to hear and consider different perspectives on conflicts that arise and to resolve these disputes. In the pursuit of justice and societal peace, the
TRC recognized that the “law is essential to finding truth. It is a necessary part of realizing 334
reconciliation” (TRC Report, 2015 v6, p. 47). The TRC demonstrated how the legal system provides greater transparency when a public space is made available to disclose testimony.
Without access to legitimate legal processes the wrong doing and harms of Indian residential schools would have continued to be concealed and essential facts would have remained hidden from the public view.
The law is a two-edged sword. Until recently, the legal system was used by Canadian governments to suppress truth and deter access to justice. Parliament passed assimilative laws and regulations that served to oppress Indigenous People by outlawing cultural practices and creating the Indian residential school system (TRC, Reconciliation, v.6, p. 47). Further, Canada’s laws and legal procedures did little to either prevent, or even detect, the abuse of children in
Indian residential schools. Initially when harms began to be disclosed, the alleged wrong-doers were shielded. Both church and state used the legal system to foster an atmosphere of secrecy and concealment. In recent years, however, a number of legal decisions resulted in critical, systemic changes to the justice system so that individuals and organizations could no longer avoid the consequences of their horrific acts of sexual abuse (Farrow, 2014; Llewellyn, 2002;
Mahoney, 2014; Moran; 2014; Roach, 2014). Similarly, until recently, court decisions in the past have predominantly hindered rather than protected Indigenous Peoples’ land rights and resources in Canada. As a result, the law is often viewed as a barrier to reconciliation and the entire legal system is viewed with suspicion by many Indigenous Peoples. Fortunately, that is changing:
Court decisions since the repatriation of Canada’s Constitution in 1982 have given
hope to Aboriginal people that the recognition and affirmation of their existing
Treaty and Aboriginal rights in Section 35 of the Constitution Act, 1982 may be
an important vehicle for change … [still] Aboriginal leaders and communities turn 335
to the courts literally because there is no other legal mechanism. When they do so,
it is with the knowledge that the courts are still reluctant to recognize their own
traditional means of dispute resolution and law. (TRC Final Report 2015, v6, p.
48)
A liberal interpretation of s.35(1) of Canada’s Constitution Act, 1982, is required for reconciliation, in order to “establish the kind of relationship that should have flourished since
Confederation, as was envisioned in the Royal Proclamation of 1763 and the post-Confederation
Treaties” (TRC Final Report 2015, v6, pp. 48-49). Unfortunately, many issues still create divisions—an ‘us-them’ positioning which hinders reconciliation efforts. There is:
[a] broad tendency for non-Indigenous peoples to view Indigenous rights as
something to be feared or even as a threat, especially to political stability and
economic growth, rather than viewing Indigenous rights as the best potential
pathway to peaceful co-existence and conflict resolution. (Lightfoot, 2017, p. 8)
Movement toward reconciliation will require support of the courts if change is not voluntarily and vigorously implemented by the rest of society, especially if the promised movement forward, in response to the TRC Calls to Action (2015), does not materialize. If societal change is not forthcoming, then Indigenous People will be justifiably frustrated and disillusioned and “the federal apology will be another hollow, broken promise” (TRC Final Report, 2015, v6, p. 82).
Educators who choose to incorporate a legal perspective in curricula as part of taking steps toward reconciliation need to include the following three aspects. First, studying the traumatic past must consider how the law has been (as is) an integral component of the colonial nature of relationships connecting Indigenous Peoples and Canadian setters in history (Donald,
2012). Second, a significant part of this story is recognizing the advocacy and resiliency of 336
Survivors and the legal precedents that paved the way for establishment of the TRC. A third and final component is an overview of recent case law that has acknowledged the traditions and cultural customary practices of Indigenous People in Canada. All three elements are essential although any emphasis on the latter two should not minimize past failures of the justice system when the law was used as a tool of government oppression by forcing Indigenous children to attend residential schools. As noted previously, such forced removal and assimilation by a government in power is now identified as cultural genocide and in contravention of Article 2(e) of the United Nations Convention on Genocide.
Including a legal perspective in education, with respect to the traumatic past and the rationale of reconciliation, requires an overview of certain historic legal principles which were enmeshed in a colonial mind-set. These legal doctrines form basis from which is it possible to appreciate recent advances in Indigenous rights as articulated in a number of legal decisions. The following is a very brief review of historical concepts and a few key legal cases to illustrate the importance of the law in the complicated conversation that is curriculum. This review will demonstrate how far Canadian courts have come as well as identify the serious reconciliation challenges which still remain and are yet to be faced by all societal institutions including the legal system.
The most foundational concept in law is that “Treaties between Indigenous nations and the Crown established the legal and constitutional foundation of this country” (TRC Final
Report, 2015 v1, p. 195). Treaties essentially give Canada the right to exist. Commissions, including RCAP (1996) and the TRC (2015), have called upon the federal government to reaffirm the nation-to-nation relationship between Aboriginal/Indigenous Peoples and the
Crown. All Canadians need to understand that without Treaties, Canada would have no legal 337
right to exist or legitimacy as a nation. The Royal Proclamation of 1763, issued by King George
III, recognized that First Nations’ nationhood territory and rights in land could only be extinguished with consent. In fact, it is now believed that this 1763 Royal decree was one of the main precipitating factors of the American Revolution because settlers were barred from
Westward expansion. Since the 1776, legal justifications for settlement of Indigenous land, as between the USA and Canada, have significantly diverged because:
The United States claims to have conquered the territory it took from the original
inhabitants despite international law that denies conquest as a legitimate source of
jurisdiction. The Supreme Court of Canada has stated that we [Indigenous People]
were never conquered, and so Canada cannot rely upon discovery, empty land or
conquest as the source of its jurisdiction. Treaty is the only legitimate source
through which Canada received jurisdiction. Our treaties are foundational
documents equivalent to the Constitution. (Johnson, 2019, p. 125)
From a legal perspective Canada has claimed to assert control over Indigenous Peoples’ land by having negotiating Treaties with First Nations. There are exceptions where in some provinces land was simply occupied or seized. Even where Treaties were negotiated, while seemingly the more honourable and legal approach, this process was often undermined by fraud and coercion.
In any case Canada was, and remains, slow to implement the treaties’ provisions and intent (TRC
Principles, 2015, p. 5). Nonetheless, Treaties are considered the legal foundation of the nation and hope remains that the original vision of treaty relationships might still be realized:
The Old People envisioned that through the Treaties the land could be shared …
[and] the descendants of the people who were party to the Treaties could live with
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what they needed, that they could all live with dignity. To this day, the oral
history of the Treaties is vividly retold and recited. (McLeod, 2016, p. 22)
Revisiting existing Treaties helps us understand the importance of oral traditions and the meaning that can be found in traditional treaty stories. Words and imagery reveal the true essence of treaties when supplemental meaning is sought and derived from these origin stories reflecting First Nations’ perspectives. These stories and oral traditions should therefore be considered as an important part of Canada’s constitutional framework:
When my ancestors signed treaties, agreeing to share millions of acres of land …
for as long as the sun shines, the rivers flow, and the grass grows … [these] treaty
terms … are constitutionally protected and form part of Canada’s highest laws.
(Burrows, 2018, p. 52)
These Treaty agreements are rooted in Indigenous law and legal traditions, where the land itself provides the basis for interconnectedness, which binds us all (Burrows, 2018). However, to better understand our traumatic past, with reference to the law and the colonial mindset, a few legal fictions inherited from Western European sources have to be explored as these doctrines had considerable impact on Indigenous Peoples. Interwoven in this explanation is a review of a key legal decisions where the court has purposely undermined these legal fictions and set the stage for the resolution of land claims—a crucial aspect of reconciliation.
The convenient legal convention or myth of terra nullius
One legal argument underpinning the claim of Canadian Crown title was based on the doctrine of terra nullius, a legal fiction that the land was empty of people when the European
‘discoverers’ first arrived. While not supported by historic evidence, stating the land was vacant was necessary to support the doctrine of discovery. The colonial mythos was that: 339
The new worlds were empty places, terra nullius … with nobody there … there
were people there, of course, a lot of them, and this was their home. But the
settlers quickly invented a myth of entitlement—a constitution, a creation story—
to match their myth of discovery. (Chamberlin, 2003, p. 28)
If First Nations’ people were acknowledged or perceived as being present in the land, they were portrayed as ‘wanderers’ who had no ownership of the land, as opposed to the identification of newly arrived Europeans as ‘settlers’ who could lay claim to this formerly ‘un-inhabited’ or
‘underutilized’ land. This legal reasoning made it easy to disregard people who had lived on this land according to their history since time immemorial. The government argument that there was no legitimate or legal claim to the land by Indigenous People was a legal fiction that was completely disconnected from historic reality, however this colonial premise wasn’t successfully challenged in court until Calder et. al., v. British Columbia (AG) [1973] SCR 313:
[The Calder case, was] launched by the Nisga’a First Nations of BC, who asked
the court to recognize their un-ceded (un-surrendered) Aboriginal title to their
traditional territory. Although they lost the case on a technicality, the success of
the Nisga’a in having six out of seven judges say that Aboriginal title grounded in
previous occupancy continued to be a doctrine that had legal force in Canada was
a major step forward for Aboriginal rights. (kulchyski, 2013, p. 40)
The Calder decision confirmed that Aboriginal (Indigenous) title to the land pre-existed colonization which previously the government of British Columbia had adamantly disputed.
Despite the lack of treaties in BC, the provincial government had, before this decision was made taken the position there was no obligation to Indigenous People as the land had already been ceded therefore no efforts were made to enter into treaty negotiations. Even though there was a 340
split decision of the court in this case, and the specific legal claim in the Calder case was unsuccessful, the affirmation of Indigenous rights became a solid foundation for treaty negotiations to proceed and it had great precedential value for decisions in subsequent legal cases including Delgamuukw [1997]
• Delgamuukw v. British Columbia [1997] 3 S.C.R. 1010
For Indigenous People, stories both create and document a nation’s history and bind the community to the past, to their ancestors, and to the land. As recalled by Chamberlin (2003), at a meeting between a First Nations community in northwest B.C. and the federal government, officials claimed the land belonged to the Crown. Elders reacted with astonishment and asked the question: “If this is your land, where are your stories?” (Chamberlin, 2003, p. 1). One of the
Gitksan Elders at this meeting would later initiate a law suit with others in his community to
“convince the rest of us that the territory where his people lived for thousands of years was his home. The case was called Delgamuukw” (Chamberin, 2003, p. 10). The Delgamuukw decision was the first time the Canadian justice system gave legal recognition to traditional stories and oral testimony. By recognizing oral testimony Indigenous People could have their evidence accepted by the court and establish their title to the land. The Delgamuukw case set out the scope of protection afforded to Aboriginal (Indigenous) title under the Constitution Act, 1982, as well as defining and describing a process as to how a land claim could be established in court.
Because this case was decided over 20 years ago, it is difficult to appreciate the depth of shockwaves this decision created in government, the legal community and with the public at the time. The fact that Indigenous title continued to exist and amounted to ownership of wide swathes of land in Canada, including the majority of the territory in British Columbia, was an
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incredibly difficult concept for most Canadians to accept, and prior to this case, this concept would have been considered inconceivable.
• Tsilhqot’in Nation v. British Columbia, [2014] S.C.R. 256:
The Tsilhqot’in Nation case is another key decision that must take a prominent place in the curriculum because it has significant ramifications for the nation and sets the rules by which
Canadian society will move forward with reconciliation. In 2014, less than 20 years after
Delgamuukw (1997) recognized Aboriginal (Indigenous) title and a right to make a land claim could be established if the court found ‘sufficient, continuous, and exclusive’ use of the land, the
SCC expanded the scope for establishing a claim. The SCC held that Aboriginal (Indigenous) claims need not be restricted to places of continual occupation as set out in Delgamuukw but could legitimately extend to claims of any lands used regularly by First Nations. As a result of the Tsilhqot’in Nation case, the Crown now has to engage in meaningful consultation whenever any claim was made. The government (Crown) could no longer act unilaterally in any way that would effectively undermine claims of Aboriginal (Indigenous) title even when such claims were yet to be determined by treaty agreements. The SCC in Tsilhqot’in Nation, 2014 also affirmed the earlier reasoning of Dickson J in the case of Guerin v. The Queen that:
At the time of assertion of European sovereignty, the Crown acquired radical or
underlying title to all the land in the province. This Crown title was, however,
burdened by the pre-existing legal rights of Aboriginal people who occupied and
used the land prior to European arrival” (Tsilhqot’in Nation, 2014, at para. 69)
The SCC (8 justices sitting) made a landmark, and rare unanimous decision, that Aboriginal
(Indigenous) title existed and that:
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The doctrine of terra nullius (that no one owned the land prior to European
assertion of sovereignty) never applied in Canada, as confirmed by the Royal
Proclamation (1763) (at para. 69) … [and] the content of the Crown’s underlying
title is what is left when Aboriginal title is subtracted from it. (Tsilhqot’in Nation,
2014 at para 70)
This court decision is a serious challenge to Canadians who are often ‘forgetful’ that they live on land which is un-ceded, meaning that Aboriginal (Indigenous) title has never been surrendered or acquired by the Crown, as the land has never been the subject of any treaty agreements.
Therefore use of that land is subject to underlying First Nations’ claims.
The decision in Tsilhqot'in Nation was hailed by Grand Chief Stewart Philip as a ‘game changer’ (Krebs, 2014) by building on Delgamuukw and expanding the court’s recognition of
Aboriginal (Indigenous) title. When the case of Tsilhqot'in Nation is read in conjunction with
Haida Nation v. British Columbia (Minister of Forests), 2004, (which sets out the Crown's duty to consult and accommodate the claims of Indigenous People), then the need for government to engage in meaningful consultations with Indigenous People is apparent whenever there is an application to grant licences, extract resources, or build new infrastructure projects. Essentially, the Tsilhqot'in Nation decision requires a strong working relationship with Indigenous People in order for Canada to function economically. Previously, negotiations were often conducted as a zero-sum game, using an ‘us versus them’ strategy. Now, relationships have to be built on mutual respect for either future economic development or reconciliation. The Tsilhqot'in case clarifies for the first time that the land in Canada is actually, or is to be perceived of as, a series of overlapping jurisdictions where Indigenous title can no longer be ignored even in urban areas.
Therefore, “bringing First Nations into decision-making processes isn't something that the 343
Crown does when it's feeling generous; it's not a moral issue, but a legal one” (Krebs, 2014, para
21-22). The government must move beyond colonial attitudes by recognizing that its duty to consult and accommodate is accompanied by a ‘duty to learn.’ This additional duty is based on a need to study and understand the legal traditions of Indigenous People according to the former
Chief Justice of the Court of Appeal of British (Finch 2012). Both duties (to consult and to learn) stem from what is called the ‘Honour of the Crown,’ a unique fiduciary relationship between government and First Nations in Canada. Therefore, such duties are incumbent on all governance structures in the nation, including the legal system (Finch, 2012). The Tsilhqot'in Nation decision also recognizes that Indigenous People are responsible for their jurisdiction although this may overlap with the jurisdiction of the federal and provincial governments as well as the rights and claims of other Indigenous People. These overlapping jurisdictions may result in uncertainty. On the other hand, there can also be strengths found in this flexible recognition of rights:
While the Crown may try to unilaterally claim that treaties in Ontario and the
Prairies were outright surrender of land and authority, First Nations will [now] be
able to interpret treaties as what many hold to be their original meaning: a
framework for the sharing of territory, resources and decision making power.
(Krebs, 2014, para 17)
In areas where Treaties were negotiated, First Nations understood treaty-making as a form of sharing. In fact:
Canada is founded on an act of sharing that is almost unimaginable in its
generosity—not only land, but food, agricultural techniques, practical knowledge,
and trade routes … [and] a post-colonial relationship might be built out of the
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memory of that sharing. Instead they [settlers] clamour for ‘closure’, for ‘final
settlements’ (Epp, 2008, p 133)
Claims of ‘final settlement’ do not reflect the original treaty-making processes, or the agreements of treaty known in Cree as Asotamâtowin or ‘sacred oath making,’ which was understood as a “a promise you have to honour no matter what—no matter how inconvenient … [at the heart, this word means] the upholding of honour, of being true to one’s word. It also indicates mutual responsibility” (McLeod, 2016, p. 23). Embedded in the Treaty agreements is a ‘duty of care,’ a promise to those in relationship.
If Treaties, as per s. 35 of the Constitution, are encompassed as part of numerous documents making up the nation’s constitution, then Canada finds itself in a unique situation where it appears to be a constitution that is in continual evolution. The roots of our legal and governance systems are now recognized to stretch back to the Magna Carta as well as to non-
European origins. Systems in society must therefore reflect legal traditions, principles and decision-making systems of Indigenous People who inhabited these lands long before settlers came. While this is a relatively cursory overview of significant legal principles and case precedents, it not only exposes the roots in colonialism, it provides also supports strong argument as to how legal analysis is critical to understanding the current social, political, and economic situation in Canada. Without including such material in the curriculum, it is difficult to see how students would be fully appraised of their citizenship responsibilities or prepared to address past harms or meet the requirements of reconciliation.
There are many persuasive arguments as to why education must assist in the efforts to move beyond the ‘feel good’ gestures of sympathy for the current plight of Indigenous People in
Canada. First, education can through the study of the traumatic past provide a solid foundation 345
for concrete actions that support reconciliatory efforts. The traumatic past teaches us harsh truths that have only recently become the subject of study. Consequently, “while non-Indigenous people should not have to feel guilty, they do need to recognize that they have been in denial for so many decades” (Starblanket, 2016, p. x). To this end, an introduction to existing legal traditions and analysis as well as Indigenous laws and legal processes should a necessary part of
Canadian curricula. Such respect for both legal traditions could draw upon the thorough review by the TRC of Indigenous law and legal traditions in Canada (TRC Final Report v6, 2015, pp.
45-79) and the advice that the best forums for reconciliation are often based in Indigenous practices and protocols (TRC Final Report v6, 2015, p. 66).
Second, there is a need to introduce students to legal perspectives as recent case law has set out clear obligations that are foundational to reconciliation. Laws, legal principles, and the adjudication of disputes have been said to be a form of public ‘education at the community level.’ Becoming legally literate will enable students to appreciate the fundamental shift that has occurred in legal analysis, in a move from a colonial lens to a recognition of Indigenous law as part of Canada’s constitutional framework. This is in line with the TRC’s advice that “legal traditions exist as resources and standards for present action; they should not be regarded as inflexible sets of models frozen in a distant past” (TRC Final Report v6, 2015, p. 61)
Finally, Canadians need to take their lead from the courts and commit to a duty to learn:
There are urgent and compelling reasons to learn from these [Indigenous] legal
traditions; they have great relevance for Aboriginal peoples and all Canadians
today. They should be regarded as the laws of the land and applied to the broader
reconciliation process. (TRC Final Report v6, 2015, p. 74)
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This learning will enable a complete revisioning of the nation by addressing our destructive history of colonization which “can lead to a better world for all. I call on the Canadian people to walk this road with us” (Manuel & Derrickson, 2017, p. 266).
8.5 Becoming an Ally: Education for De-Colonization
The first step to becoming an ally is to start by educating yourself about Indigenous history, current issues and the barriers faced by Indigenous People in Canada (Antoine et.al.,
2018). Lynn Gehl (n.d.) advocates that allies should not act out of guilt but out of a genuine interest in challenging oppressive power structures. As an ally they should also be ‘fully grounded in their own ancestral history and culture.’ Being an effective ally means learning more about this role, because “an ally is someone from a privileged group who is aware of how oppression works and struggles alongside members of an oppressed group to take action to end oppression” (Antoine et.al., 2018, p. 63). Therefore, those who take on the role of ally must become involved in deep reflection, education, critical thinking and respectful listening, in addition to studying the traumatic (colonial) past in order to change one’s behaviour in the present (Amnesty International, 2018).
Colonialism is comprised of two elements, an original displacement and unequal relations. Tupper identifies that: “as a colonial state, Canada has a long and well documented history of displacement and unequal relations with Aboriginal peoples. The harmful effects of colonialism are not only institutional, but also emotional, spiritual and physical” (Tupper, 2014, p. 470). Reconciliation efforts must therefore be part of our education system in order to address our nation’s traumatic past by “generating a post-colonial education system in Canada and disrupting those normalized discourses and singularities and allowing diverse voices and perspectives and objectives into ‘mainstream’ schooling” (Battiste, 2013, p. 107). Settler allies 347
must establish collaborative relationships and recognize that decolonized thinking is already available through the work of Indigenous scholars, artists, and activists (Hargreaves & Jefferess,
2015, p. 201). Nonetheless, this “new information will not present itself” to those who do not seek it out, nor will it be apparent to those who are not ready to receive it (Marsden, 2014, p. 89).
Adopting a legal perspective, can assist non-Indigenous allies to have at least a basic understanding of how First Nations, Inuit and Métis People have distinct socio-political and legal rights, vis à vis non-Indigenous peoples and how these inherent rights, are recognized in Treaties and confirmed in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (Constitution Act, 1982) and case law.
Readiness to become an ally, from an educational perspective, obliges us to study the traumatic past and to question colonial assumptions. The mind-set that created the Indian residential school system illustrates a clash of worldviews that is still very much in evidence in present day conflicts. Finally, readiness also requires developing a vision of reconciliation. To this end, all Canadians must revisit and renew existing Treaty agreements and address ongoing land claims. These decolonizing commitments will be challenging. Such commitments require us as allies to be both knowledgeable and respectful with an openness to engaging with Indigenous ways of knowing, being, and acting—realizing in practice the ‘duty to learn.’ These actions also constitute a solid foundation upon which it is possible to act as an informed and responsible citizen and to be supportive, as an ally, of Indigenous self-determination and resurgence.
8.6 Conclusion: Taking Steps Toward Reconciliation
A nation must survive its discords and ‘traumatisms must give way to the work of mourning’ so that Nation-States are not overcome by paralysis (Derrida, 2009, p. 41). Nations and people must be accountable for their actions to ensure peaceful co-existence according to
Indigenous understandings. There is much wisdom and guidance to be found in Indigenous legal 348
traditions, such as the example of Coast Salish teachings, founded on respect, where “apologies and restitution are necessary to restore balance within a community when someone is harmed”
(TRC Final Report v6, 2015, p. 71). Official apologies on behalf of government and defendant churches were therefore an absolutely essential component of reconciliation. As the TRC identified, establishing and maintaining respectful relationships is the essence of ‘reconciliation’ and “for this to happen, there has to be awareness of the past, acknowledgement of the harm that has been inflicted, atonement for the causes, and action to change behaviour … A critical part of this process involves repairing damaged trust by making apologies” (TRC Final Report 2015, v6, pp. 3, 11) The apologies that were made by church and state, acknowledged harmful actions in the establishment and operation of Indian residential schools and asked for forgiveness for the harms inflicted on the children. However, the TRC did not profess to forgive past transgressions, because only an individual victim can forgive, and the living can never forgive on behalf of the dead. It is for this reason ‘crimes against humanity’ are considered truly unforgiveable crimes.
The only ethical stance toward crimes against humanity is to take steps toward reconciliation, with the first reconciliatory actions being the choice not to forget and the recognition of one’s responsibility to repair and restore what is possible. Reconciliation may also entail an obligation to change underlying structural defects that either led to the harm in the first place and/or address the ongoing inequalities that resulted. Effecting real and systemic change in society may be the only ‘reparative’ act that is possible, which along with memorialization, become the primary reconciliatory acts whenever the victim has died, or the harm inflicted are so grievous they cannot be ‘made right’ nor can the relationship be restored. In the study of the traumatic past, it is a truism that:
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What has been done may not be undone, time cannot be turned back, those who
are gone will never come again. Today, we have to look to the future. What we
can do today is to work … so that those who come after us can carry on in a better
world than the one we live in. (Fried, 2019, p. 118)
The TRC referenced the Mi’kmaq concept of ‘making things right,’ drawing similar conclusions to Fried that there are situations, such as addressing the legacy of Indian residential schools, where, “the remedy might not allow us to recapture what was lost. Making things right might involve creating something new was we journey forward” (TRC Final Report 2015, v6, p. 52).
To take actions to set thing right, reconciliation efforts are required and yet these acts are often not focused on individuals but on the larger body politic. However, in the context of educational reform in Canada, the need to reconcile and follow the guidance of the TRC that ‘reconciliation must become a way of life,’ requires individual citizens to be involved as part of societal change.
All citizens, and students as future citizens, need to understand, support, and commit to, promises made on their behalf by government representatives in order for these obligations to be fulfilled. In a democratic country, political will and public backing are required to ensure that a nation remains on the path of reconciliation. Despite many barriers to reconciliation, the TRC stated they remained cautiously optimistic based on the strength of the Survivors’ message:
For reconciliation to thrive in the coming years, Canada must move from apology
to action … a just reconciliation requires more than simply talking about the need
to heal the deep wounds of history. Words of apology alone are insufficient;
concrete actions on both symbolic and material fronts are required. Reparations
for historical injustices must include not only apology, financial redress, legal
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reform, and policy change but also the rewriting of national history and public
commemoration. (TRC Final Report, 2015 v6, p. 82)
Reconciliation as a concept and practice in Canada is open to legitimate criticism if it implies acceptance of the status quo for this would be manifestly unjust for Indigenous People (Asch,
Borrows & Tully, 2018). Admittedly, the legacy left by colonization, as evident in the devastating aftermath of Indian residential schools, is an inheritance that will not be easy to address. According to Arthur Manuel “what is broken is Canada, and the issue is not merely behaviours, but fundamental rights—our land rights and the inalienable right to self- determination. The remedy is not apologies and hugs but recognition and restitution” (Manuel,
2017, p. 57). Because remedies are yet to be worked out and the road to reconciliation is not straightforward, we must begin our journey by understanding the history of how we arrived at this point.
With respect to reconciliation, our traumatic past, is part of our inheritance or ‘birthright.’
Both are helpful metaphors to illustrate that everyone comes into the world preceded by an inheritance, comprised of what others have done before our arrival. This inheritance is collective, extending back over time and while we did not choose this inheritance, we must acknowledge it and use it as a starting point. Every country in the world arguably has a traumatic past where there is a need to address past injustices, violence and suffering and where citizens and their government must deal with historic events that caused harm to individuals or groups within that society. Therefore, in every nation, there are accumulated burdens where citizens are required to accept what has been done by previous generations. Of course, we have beneficial inheritances as well, yet these also bring responsibilities. For example, the stewardship of the land presents an ethical obligation on the present generation to take care of the land and resources in a way that 351
ensures benefits may be passed along to the next generation. This is a gift we arguably hold only in ‘trust,’ it is a legacy that must be preserved, perhaps even improved upon, by the efforts of the current generation. In both, burden and benefit, our inheritance or birthright is not fixed and can be altered through our agency and choices.
Returning to a consideration of Treaty relationships between Indigenous and non-
Indigenous people in the light of ‘inheritance’ means that “the relationship between Aboriginal peoples and settlers, I suggest, constitutes an equally powerful common history, inherited, not chosen, whose birthright we can either disavow, because its burdens seem too great, or else make our own through respectful initiatives” (Epp, 2008, p. 135). Again, like our relationship with the land, our relationships with others are based on choice. The process of restoring relationships of respect, and engaging in reconciliation efforts, is still very much in flux, although Canada has at least begun taking responsibility for our inheritance of the traumatic past. As a consequence of the legal cases and the establishment of the TRC, a series of actions have been taken recently which constitute what has been termed ‘thick reconciliation.’ Reconciliation exists on a continuum with ‘thin reconciliation’ at one end of the spectrum which is an approach with minimal efforts. At the other end of the spectrum is ‘thick reconciliation,’ and in addressing the history of Indian residential schools, Canada has entered into many of the commitments considered indicia of ‘thick reconciliation’ (Crocker in Cole, 2007, p. 4). When there is only
‘thin reconciliation,’ there is generally only a resigned or minimal acceptance of the ‘Other’ and ongoing relationships demand only expressions of tolerance or accommodation to bring about a state of non-violent co-existence. In such cases of thin reconciliation, education concerning the traumatic past is generally deemphasized or disregarded completely. In contrast, thick
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reconciliation requires “some degree of accounting for, not amnesia about, a difficult past”
(Cole, 2007, p. 7). With thick reconciliation, in addressing the traumatic past, there are:
An array of possible strategies, and policy options, including: truth commissions,
monetary reparations, apologies, mechanisms of restorative justice, economic
investment, monuments and memorialization, psycho-social healing, the opening
of security archives, and other means of facing past violence in order to build the
foundations of a new democratic order. (Rothenburg, 2002, pp. 956-957)
The Canadian process, although it did not bring about a ‘regime change’ is considered to be thick reconciliation because a number of these elements have been used to address past atrocities committed by the state. Thick reconciliation indicates a more complex process in transitional justice. These components include: 1) an official acknowledgment of the harm done and an apology; 2) the promotion of ‘truth telling’ by victims (Survivors) in a public forum; 3) the payment of reparations and restitution; 4) justice in the form of trials; 5) public commemoration;
6) institutional reform; and 7) public deliberation (Crocker in Cole, 2007, p. 7). Reform of the education system, particularly curriculum change, is often identified as an essential element and includes teaching about a nations’ violent past (Cole, 2007). Curriculum reform requires the inclusion of accurate information about the traumatic past as well as new perspectives that address errors or omissions of previous curricula where certain stories were neglected or actively misrepresented or repressed.
Reconciliation efforts may be effective in creating alternate visions for a nation.
Curriculum can be enriched by adopting an Indigenous vantage point on the past which would be particularly significant and beneficial for Canadians who have arguably been, since the creation of Canada, ‘orphans of their own history’ (Sioui, 2019, p. 26). In particular, we need to include 353
the valuable contributions of Indigenous People and how this relationship positively impacted
Canada’s history and national origin story. John Ralston Saul identifies how strategic elements exist in Canada’s constitution and governance structure that are clearly distinct and likely ‘home grown’ as they were unlikely to have arisen from European origins (Saul, 2008). The following summarizes several distinctive elements illustrating the unique nature of Canadian society:
Our obsession with egalitarianism. Our desire to maintain a balance between
individuals and groups. The delight we take in playing with our non-monolithic
idea of society—a delight in complexity. Our tendency to try to run society as an
ongoing negotiation … [preferring] consensus—again an expression of society as
a balance of complexity, a sort of equilibrium … through complex relationships.
Our sense that the clear resolution of differences will lead to injustice and even
violence. And related to that our preferences for something that the law now calls
minimal impairment, which means the obligation of those with authority to do as
little damage as possible to people and to rights when exercising that authority
(Saul, 2008, pp. 54-55).
Subsequent to early treaty relationships of ‘peace and friendship,’ the path of Canadian political and legal institutions diverged substantially from any formal recognition of Indigenous influence on mainstream society. To this day there is a continuing acceptance that only European traditions and governance models, believed to be transplanted intact to Canada, have any bearing on the
‘legal account’ of how the nation and its constitutional framework came to be. Yet, this belief in an origin story of the Imperial model, with its unreservedly Eurocentric view of laws and institutions, has never accurately reflected the practice of Canadian law and political policy. To the extent that it did exist, it has now been effectively challenged and undermined by the 354
inclusion of s.35(1) of the Charter and as a result of recent SCC decisions (Slattery, 1996). Brian
Slattery (1996) proposes that Canada is actually governed by an Organic Model where the
Constitution is a product of slow and continuing growth (similar to the Living Tree doctrine).
This growth is moulded by local Canadian influences and traditions, that includes:
A distinctive body of ‘common’ or unwritten law. This body of law was neither
European nor Aboriginal in origin or substance but drew elements from both sides
to produce a unique set of inter-societal rules, known in modern times as the
doctrine of aboriginal rights … which the courts are still in the process of
articulating. (Slattery, 1996, pp. 109-110)
While Indigenous principles and their influence were often ignored by officials or forgotten by the general public, this essential legal and historical background has been formally recognized and revived by s.35(1) of the Charter in what has been termed ‘Treaty federalism.’ There are three main features of the Organic Model which more accurately reflect this current reality: 1) the Constitution is, in fact, rooted in Canadian or Indigenous, not European, soil; 2) there is a pluralistic conception of the sources of law and authority (adding to a complexity in understanding); and 3) law is understood as immanent, meaning that it is realized in collective practices and traditions (so that it is fundamentally customary in nature rather than composed entirely of positive or ‘black letter’ law) (Slattery, 1996). The key message, essential to a curriculum based on a rationale of reconciliation, is the necessity:
To broaden our conception of the sources of Canadian law and to recognize the
diverse roles that Indian, Inuit, and Métis peoples have played in the formation of
this country and its Constitution … Aboriginal peoples should be viewed as active
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participants in generating the basic norms that govern us … as contributors to the
evolution of our Constitution and most fundamental laws. (Slattery, 1996, p. 112)
Of course, more can still be learned from the organizational models for society based on the traditional law and practices of Indigenous People especially their vision of shared governance based on mutual respect and a decentralized structure of collective decision making and balance of power amongst members of their society. As noted, “in 2012, Chief Justice Lance Finch talked about how Canadians can be a part of reconciliation. As part of the process, I suggest the current Canadian legal system must reconcile itself to coexistence with pre-existing Indigenous legal orders” (TRC Final Report, 2015 v6, p. 77). John Burrows has published extensively, with this very aim of dispelling colonial myths and encouraging a broader and deeper interpretation of
Canadian law by integrating the legal practices and protocols of Indigenous People as well as their traditional teachings and story-work within the Canadian justice system (2005; 2010a;
2016; 2019a). Borrows (2010) recognizes there is an underlying legal ‘ethnocentrism’ that has resulted in the erasure or non-recognition of Indigenous laws within the Canadian legal hierarchy. Despite the s.35 argument, there remains uncertainty as to the extent of influence of
Indigenous laws and practice in Canada although Burrows contends it is not only necessary, but would be beneficial to society as a whole, to rectify this incomplete and impoverished view of
Canadian law.
Indigenous peoples’ laws hold modern relevance for themselves and for others,
and [this] can be developed through contemporary practices. While Indigenous
legal traditions have ancient roots, they can also speak to the present and future
needs of all Canadians. They should not be just about, or even primarily about, the
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past. They contain guidance about how to live peacefully in the present world.
(Borrows, 2010, p. 10).
In light of the fact that laws and legal practice are not static and ultimately depend upon public discourse and compliance, if not consensus, the educational purpose of inclusion within curricula aimed at reconciliation should be readily apparent. Provoking further thought about laws, legal traditions and the mutuality of treaty rights, responsibilities and relationship may help to challenge dominant colonial narratives and encourage a return to principles that are more reflective of the original understandings of all founding nations.
Including this more nuanced perspective on the law and the origins of Canada and reflecting a worldview with a very different view of nature and connection to the land captures a more wholistic view of “how our country was born [and this] is a first step toward finding its
Native soul and spirit and thus forming a true national will to care for, protect, and love the land that gives us life (Sioui, 2019, p. 60). This emphasis on relationality could, if implemented, result in greater environmental protection or the adoption of societal practices which inhibit economic and political inequality in Canada by reflecting cooperative traditions of Indigenous communities
(i.e. practices such as the Potlatch). Incorporating variants of Indigenous laws, governance structures and customary practices modified for contemporary society could offer alternatives to
Canadians and respite from the current systemic emphasis on laws and practices that only encourage or reward competitiveness and economic disparity: “In short, Canada, in order to continue to be the strong, successful, world-inspiring nation that it is, will be well advised to discover and to prize its true Aboriginal spirituality and intellectual heritage” (Sioui, 2019, p.
160). At a minimum, reconciliation must be interpreted broadly and encompass a respectful relationship with the land, because: 357
Reconciliation between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Canadians, from an
Aboriginal perspective, also requires reconciliation with the natural world. If
human beings resolve problems between themselves but continue to destroy the
natural world, then reconciliation remains incomplete … Indigenous laws stress
that humans must journey through life in conversation and negotiation with all
creation. (TRC Final Report, 2015, v1, p. 18)
Ongoing protests against resource development across Canada are rooted in the awareness that
“the only time reconciliation will be achieved is when mainstream society recognizes Indigenous wisdom, including respect and caring for nature” (Stonechild, 2020, para 15). This highlights once again the fundamental clash of two very different world views, a difference that created
Indian residential schools in the first place. Accordingly, the time has come to ask the question:
“What would it mean for us—as non-Indigenous people—to think seriously about reconciliation in terms of the project of decolonization, a project that serves to acknowledge and undo the foundational premises of our dominant settler myths?” (Hargreaves & Jefferess, 2015, p. 201).
Reconciliation therefore must impact all that constitutes the current structure of society. For this reason, the TRC Calls to Action (2015) cover all major public institutions in Canada, including education, because all of the governing bodies and systems have contributed to the destructive impacts on Indigenous People. As Blair Stonechild (2020) identifies there has never been a true
‘meeting of the minds’ in this country.
While the TRC set out an extremely ambitious agenda, Prime Minister (Justin) Trudeau affirmed on behalf of the government a willingness to be held accountable in terms of progress toward meeting the TRC Calls to Action (2015) that were within the government’s power
(Trudeau, 2015; Government of Canada, 2019). The update on meeting these targets, however, is 358
not encouraging and a recent report indicates “Canada has made dreadful progress in fulfilling the TRC’s Calls to Action” (Martens, 2019). This reflects, at least in part, that reconciliation is a challenging proposition particularly given the population of Indigenous People that represents a small minority (approximately 5% of the total population) and therefore ‘political will’ of the remaining 95% of Canadian citizens must be engaged and persuaded to allocate further resources
(land, money and effort) to bring about reconciliation. Perhaps even more sobering is the fact that the bulk of progress to date has been largely initiated by judicial decisions in recognizing treaty rights and land claims based on Charter arguments and constitutional guarantees. These legal cases, brought by Indigenous People as a last resort, have faced considerable opposition from the Crown and this includes Indian residential school litigation which only resulted in a
Settlement Agreement when it became apparent that the alternative of defending the class action law suit in court would have been financially disastrous for the government (Rae, 2017).
Although the TRC was the outcome of a court structured Consent Order, and not the result of either political will or citizen advocacy, the TRC still managed to hold up a mirror to
Canadians. The TRC documented our traumatic past through the stories of Survivors and provided a road map for reconciliation. While all 94 TRC Calls to Action (2015) are important, those addressing education are imperative. Most significant for this study has been the need to develop curricula in respect to the history of Indian residential schools so that the study of the traumatic past becomes a mandatory aspect of the education system. The TRC made it abundantly clear that this history and the legacy of colonization must be taught because it is not just Indigenous history, it is Canadian history. Students who attended the TRC public forums have taken up this challenge and encouraged “all our fellow Canadians, including new immigrants, to express their desire for bold political leadership now. We have heard the truth, 359
now let us all spread the word and work toward reconciliation” (Kinew, Butera & Sas, 2015, para 10-12).
Reconciliation must become a ‘way of life’ according to the TRC and constructive actions need to be taken across all sectors of Canadian society, yet education and curriculum change are seen as being particularly indispensable to reconciliatory efforts:
[It will take] many years to repair damaged trust and relationships in Aboriginal
communities and between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples. Reconciliation
not only requires apologies, reparations, the relearning of Canada’s national
history, and public commemoration, but also … ongoing public education and
dialogue are essential to reconciliation … reconciliation begins with each and
every one of us” (TRC Final Report, v1, 2015, pp. 184-185, emphasis added).
The most prominent theme which has been continually repeated throughout this consideration of reconciliation as a rationale for engaging in the study of the traumatic past, is that relationship and respect are the foundation for reconciliation. This is well reflected in the words of Richard
Wagamese (2008):
There is a song that is Canada … ancient notes in its chorus, voices sprung from
Metis roots, Ojibway, Cree, Micmac and then French, German, Scottish and
English. It’s a magnificent cacophony. I have learned that to love this country
means to love its people. All of them. When we say, “all my relations,” it’s meant
in a teaching way, to rekindle community. We are part of the great grand circle of
humanity, and we need each other. It wouldn’t be Canada with one voice less.
(Wagamese, 2008, p. 192)
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Admittedly, each approach to reconciliation is unique and there can be ‘no one-size-fits-all’ model or uniform way of moving forward. Yet what is always found at the centre, or heart, is reconciliation, respect and relationship—the new 3 ‘R’s of education.
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Chapter 9: Conclusion: Weaving Threads in the Curriculum Conversation
I am often asked, ‘How can we avoid this happening again?’ I can only think of one way, and that is through the upbringing of our children. Upbringing generally, and education particularly. Schools play a very important role in determining what tomorrow will look like. (Fried, 2019, pp. 131-132)
Our relationship with ideas is like every other relationship—it is alive and it changes over time. The way we see it, research and reconciliation are both ultimately about processes of growing, learning and changing. We learn most when we are open to new ways of seeing, and there is nothing quite like a good story or conversation to get us to see things in a new way. (Breen, Wilson & Dupré, 2019, p. xii)
For once a story is told, it cannot be called back. Once told, it is loose in the world. (King, 2003, p. 10)
9.1 Re-visiting the Research Question: Why Study the Traumatic Past?
Education relating to the traumatic past, as evidenced in the study of the Holocaust, genocide studies, and now the history of Indian residential schools, is often accompanied by the natural human desire to find meaning in the travesties of history: “It is an understandable feeling, such a monstrous event must have lessons; it must offer an inoculation against the future failings of humankind. And surely there must be a redemptive message somewhere” (MacMillan, 2015, p. x). This research has been a search for such meaning. To seek out the underlying rationales that justifies educative efforts in addressing the question: Why study the traumatic past? To answer this query, six rationales were identified from the myriad justifications found in the literature, which includes sources in academic writing as well as references drawn from
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contemporary culture. Each of the six rationale, once identified, were reviewed systematically.
Each rationale was connected, not to expected outcomes of the educational experience, but to either existing subject matter approaches to which the first three rationales were most closely associated or for the subsequent three rationales, to Indigenous educational approaches based on processes used by the TRC and supported in Indigenous writing (again drawing from academic and contemporary source references).
The 'top-down' Ministerial pronouncement by CMEC was a mandate to undertake difficult knowledge premised on a certainty that critical lessons can be found in the traumatic past. Despite notable contributions made by Roger Simon (2005; 2014), and other curriculum scholars (Simon, Rosenberg & Eppert, 2000; Morris, 2001; Morris & Weaver, 2002; Pitt &
Britzman, 2003), study of what has been called difficult history, ‘hard’ history, or what I have termed the study of the traumatic past, remains an understudied area in conventional education or curriculum discourses. This lack of academic consideration may be due to a reluctance to engage with such a challenging subject matter or it can be the expected outcome when an area of study does not fit easily within an education system largely premised on a ‘factory model,’ where students are perceived of as mere ‘products’ of learning (Robinson, 2010). The study of the traumatic past is therefore always an outlier as it cannot “change patterns of people to acceptable norms” (Tyler, in Doll, 2002, p. 36, emphasis added), as the response to trauma is always individual in nature. Nor can the study of the traumatic past ever be based on pragmatic instrumentalism assessed by such indicia as academic achievement or economic advancement of society. Yet this research question—Why study the traumatic past? speaks to our time and to our place and deserves serious consideration. It is a research question which furthers curriculum
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inquiry and contributes to the ongoing efforts of reconceptualizing curriculum studies for each new generation.
Curriculum theorists, beginning in the early 1970’s, sought to reconceptualize curriculum studies and challenged the fundamental disconnect between recognizing a student’s subjectivity and the more prosaic aims of curricula developed to serve the economic needs and political interests of society. While there have been notable impacts due to this reconceptualization in the academic field of curriculum studies, the effect on the education system itself has been less evident. Efforts must be made to bridge this divide so that the valuable work of curriculum studies scholars may better inform education practice and vice versa, that practical day to day classroom considerations correspondingly influence theoretical considerations of curriculum scholars. Therefore, by responding to the CMEC mandate, I discovered an opportunity in my research to bridge this divide. This research provided a foundation for future questions that may now be asked beyond—Why study the traumatic past? For example: What might students discover in the study of the traumatic past? Or What lessons might be found in the suffering of others or elicited from Survivor stories of past trauma? In fact, such future queries would assist conscientious educators to better understand the diverse and competing justifications for the
CMEC mandated curricula. At this time, what is known is that through their understanding of the identified rationales, and by clarifying their own justification for engaging in the study of the traumatic past, educators will impact both ‘curriculum as planned’ and ‘curriculum as lived’
(Aoki, 1986 in Pinar & Irwin, 2005). A change in the curriculum ‘lens’ by adopting a rationale results in a corresponding change in focus and this naturally impacts educative efforts by highlighting certain facets of the traumatic past while minimizing other aspects. Therefore,
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making conscious choices, will determine initial expectations and influence anticipated educational outcomes.
My exploration of the research question and six rationales aims to assist educators and encourage their engagement with the history of Indian residential schools. First, I want to support educators in identifying and articulating their own choice of rationale(s) for including our national traumatic past in curriculum-as planned. Second, I wish to assist educators in better understanding possible consequences of the study of difficult knowledge in ‘curriculum-as-lived’ for such study has been acknowledged to challenge a sense of oneself as a person and concepts held about one’s nation for ultimately this “history requires answerability, implication—not transcendence” (Greene in Britzman, 1998, p. 56).
The CMEC commitment to include the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum provided a basis for exploring questions relating to the initial research query: Why the study of the traumatic past? particularly why such study might be, considered beneficial. The question: What purpose is served by introducing the traumatic past to the next generation? has general application whenever educators are asked to undertake the study of histories victims and those who were (are) vulnerable inequities in society. In a specific Canadian context, in respect to historic events that were the subject of a truth and reconciliation process, this question continues to call forth responses that are relevant to our past, present and future educational efforts. Internationally, education is recognized as an important area from which to approach and ideally address ongoing civil, racial and social tensions. Thus, changes to curricula are often one of the first steps towards reparation of historic harms. Various societies, prior to the Canadian experience, have implemented educational reforms including South Africa, Northern Ireland, and
Rwanda, as an integral part of reconciliation efforts (Siemens, 2017). While the intention is for 365
this research to generate insight in situations beyond the immediate context within Canada, there is recognition that assuming general application or articulating educational strategies that are touted to work in all situations is problematic. Reconciliation efforts must always be:
tied to particular relationships in particular places, and its educators must be
attentive to the local realities … educators must undergo the difficult work of
creating curriculum that reflects the local realities and nature of the conflict …
educators must [always] examine the particular nature of the relationship that it
hopes to improve. (Siemens, 2017, p. 129)
I believe education is at the heart of reconciliation efforts. However, in the Canadian context we cannot ignore the reality that education was instrumental to colonization efforts deepening divisions between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people (TRC, 2015a). Despite the fact that
‘education’ was used as a means of cultural genocide, education still has potential for contemporary educational endeavours to redress ongoing harms, because according to the TRC
Chair, “education is what got us into this mess—the use of education at least in terms of residential schools—but education is the key to reconciliation … we need to look at the way we are educating children. That’s why we say that this is not an Aboriginal problem. It’s a Canadian problem” (Sinclair in Watters, 2015b, para 17-18). Because reconciliation is a challenge for all
Canadians, the TRC identified educating future citizens as vital with a curriculum based on healing past harms, sharing stories and the creation of a collective narrative to guide healthier relationships in the future. It is within this particular context of time and place, and to this end of reconciliation and improving relationships, that my research contributions offer a ‘way forward.’
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9.2 Contribution to Future Research: Research Approaches
The concept of currere was one of many approaches selected for guiding this research and it is a foundational premise to justify inclusion of the study of the traumatic past in the curriculum. Currere is an autobiographical method introduced in curriculum studies, (Grumet &
Pinar, 1976) where individuals reflect on educational experiences for the purpose of self- understanding—informing private contemplation with an aim of public engagement. The contribution of currere is the metaphoric portrayal of curriculum as complicated conversation where individual subjectivity is in constant counterpoint to dialogic engagement. Such a method is reflected in, or forms a necessary core of, the emphasis in this research endeavour where the pre-eminent importance of subjectivity and the need to engage in personal reflection before engaging in public debate is identified as vitally important when revisiting past traumatic events.
Currere forms the basis of the importance and legitimacy of the initial research question.
The lens of verticality and horizontality was used to review literature relating to the study of the traumatic past with the aim of deepening understanding of the ways in which such study may be considered to be ‘of most worth.’ Ultimately, the various threads of the conversation, representing many diverse voices, were drawn together and interwoven or braided through using the praxis of métissage. In a visual representation, ‘verticality and horizontality’ set up the frame
(the structural ‘research loom’), and métissage encompasses the purposeful interweaving which helps to illustrate and enhance discourse as it relates to the CMEC curriculum mandate which initiated the research question. This research approach was developed purposely and is unique although it has further application to any study where a specific nexus is identified which enables the use of ‘verticality and horizontality' combined with métissage. This approach offers a robust method to explore a specific event or a particular concept. In this research, exploring the various 367
rationales for studying the traumatic past connects directly to a nexus event—the CMEC commitment—which required all Canadian educators to engage with difficult knowledge. The benefits of this approach is that it adds further depth and complexity to the research tapestry and reflects a commitment to enhance the curriculum conversation.
In my research, I made a conscious decision to minimize analysis of findings where academic criticism is used solely to critique or deconstruct alternate perspectives. Seeking constructive analysis rather than highlighting disagreement is articulated by Aaron Mills (2018) who followed the advice of his mentors (Elders), that “the best scholarship shares what needs to be said without tearing down … [reflecting] the academic practice of the third paradigm of settler-Indigenous relationship” (Mills, 2018, p. 139). What is called the ‘third paradigm’ is comparable in many ways to the ‘two-eyed seeing’ research approach which is essential in the
Canadian context in light of the reality that, “distinct Indigenous-settler realities are deeply interwoven: we can no longer affect the other without also profoundly affecting ourselves”
(Mills, 2018, p. 141). Despite serious injustices rooted in the traumatic past which should not be minimized, movement forward must recognize the deeply interwoven nature of relationships and both the obligation and profound need to work together ‘in a good way.’
Another element, which this research approach attempted to help ‘mend’ is the schism that exists between curriculum theorists who think about the ‘big picture’ curriculum theories and education practitioners who are understandably focused on day-to-day classroom contexts
(Sears & Marshall, 2000). By identifying and exploring each rationale in turn and highlighting connections with contextual factors I aimed for this research to have both theoretical relevance of particular interest to academics as well as practical application for education practitioners. Of course, creating links between theory and practice is fraught with complexity and the exploration 368
of each rationale identified for the study of the traumatic past cannot be reduced to a cause-effect equation. However, simplification in review of each of the rationales was required although there is a recognition that the whole will always comprise something more, and certainly something different, than its singular or constituent parts (Doll, in Trueit, 2012). Consequently, these rationales are meant to serve as guides for further reflection rather than as definitive statements.
The outcomes of this research remain open and there is obviously personal choice in respect to adopting any of the rationales explored. Outcomes of this research therefore support a flexible approach that is sensitive to context, rather than setting out rigid educational objectives or concrete plans ‘set in stone.’ I believe, based on my research, such rigidity is questionable as an approach to any subject, but it is especially problematic with respect to the study of the traumatic past.
Each rationale reflects traditional Euro-Canadian and Indigenous perspectives in groupings comprised of related justifications compiled into six rationales for studying the traumatic past. The historical context and intellectual lineage of each rationale was considered in an exploration of verticality along with a consideration of horizontality by referencing a variety of relevant legal, political and social factors in Canada. Commentary on legal developments and key legal cases especially provided an additional and significant contribution as this inclusion of the law highlights the concerning lack of legal analysis in education literature and curriculum studies. Rectifying this serious omission by introducing references to the legal system and case law was not only of importance in this study, it is also highly recommended for inclusion in curricula as it is arguably essential in reconciliation efforts. Students need to appreciate the importance of legal precedents and the legal foundation of reconciliation in order to understand their roles and responsibilities as citizens and to take reconciliatory action (Imber, van Geel et. 369
al., 2014). Including a legal perspective in necessary as it helps to inform curriculum inquiry by drawing upon recent legal critique of colonial narratives and by examining the role of the law and legal doctrines in both contemporary and historic, social and political, contexts (Burrows &
Coyle, 2017). Such an approach aligns with the premise of a ‘curriculum conversation’ that encourages borrowing freely from a variety of academic disciplines and that does not separate the history of curriculum thought from broader historical or contemporary contexts.
Curriculum studies demands situating the complicated conversation in both the local and in a historically connected context where, “we always need to ground ourselves in a time and a place so that we know where we come from and where we are going” (Hébert et. al., 2019, p. 4).
This aim is reflected in the research by connecting to a significant moment of great curricular importance in Canada—the national CMEC commitment—and using this as an opportunity to reflect upon the inclusion of the traumatic past in curricula. Exploring the subject matter of difficult knowledge (as exemplified in the study of the history of Indian residential schools) and the various rationale for such study, connects to both time and place so that curriculum decisions are situated within the broader stream of cultural and intellectual histories. In part, this enables educators to be not only embedded in contemporary context, but to “think about curriculum as the dispersion of perspectives existing at a given time in history rather than a progression [of] getting better and better” (Ebenezer et. al, 2019, p. 101).
I based this research on two fundamental premises: First, the study of the traumatic past cannot be fully understood or articulated if the underlying rationale are not clearly identified and consciously addressed in preparation for such study. Second, based on the work of the TRC, the paramount educational aim in addressing the traumatic past (Indian residential schools) must be understood as ‘listening’ to the voices of Survivors, becoming a ‘witness,’ and taking steps, as an 370
‘ally,’ towards reconciliation. An educational approach, comprised of listening, witnessing and engagement in reconciliatory action is arguably applicable whenever there is an intention to study the traumatic past. However, such an educational approach, in relation to addressing the history of Indian residential schools is essential and requires respectful integration of Indigenous perspectives in the curriculum. The inclusion of Indigenous knowledge and the adoption of non- traditional approaches to education are, in many ways, intrinsically incompatible with the current education system founded upon a Euro-centric model of education. Transformative change will be challenging given that “modern public schools were not made to accommodate difference in world views but to impose another culture – their own” (Kanu, 2012, p. 202). Therefore, patience and persistence will be required as well as the need to remember that “the renovation of curricula and programs is not a short-term effort but a long process, lasting for years” (Ebenezer et. al.,
2019, p. 90). While this research is critical, it is only a ‘first step’ and the impact of including the history of Indian residential schools in the curriculum and the approaches that will be developed to address our traumatic past, will require further dedicated effort and much additional study.
9.2.1 Currere
Inspired by currere, and the emphasis on the subjective educational experience, my research specifically addresses the justifications for studying the traumatic past which have been the subject of little academic attention. This research addresses a ‘gap’ by providing clear articulation and careful delineation of rationales for the study of the traumatic past and this is much needed in curriculum theory, particularly in Canada in respect to the CMEC mandated curriculum. The research question not only highlights an understudied area, but is in accordance with the need of educators, to ‘think through’ and to re/direct the familiar into new, and more hopeful educational and societal directions (Huebner in Hébert et. al., 2019, p. 2). While 371
decisions made at the meta-level of curriculum are highly influential and set parameters for a course of study, this is not the entirety of the educational experience. There is always an individual learner who interacts ‘with/in’ this course of studies and this subjective experience is reflected in the concept of currere—the metaphor of the individual journey of education portrayed as the ‘running of the course’ (Pinar, 2019, p. 24).
Currere was developed initially as a method for educators to reflect upon their educational experiences in a way that links lived experience to scholarship and when first introduced, this concept created the possibility of reconceptualizing curriculum studies. Currere has four steps: regressive, progressive, analytic, and synthetic (Pinar, 1975) and each of these steps has been explored in a recent revisiting (Pinar, 2019). However, it is the emphasis on the subjective educational experience in the concept of currere that provides an underlying tensile strength for all of the research approaches that were adopted and utilized in this study, particularly métissage. Without accepting the premise that personal subjectivity must be brought to the forefront, particularly when studying the traumatic past, then themes woven throughout this dissertation would have no framework or basis of meaning. Better understanding and being clear about our rationale for such study clarifies the purpose of the mandated curriculum; however, it is the entirety of the educational experience that is paramount. In this sense, currere justifies the need at this early stage not to dwell on specific curriculum content per se, for while content of curriculum is vitally important, it is not determinative of the individual subjective educational experience. What is important is that, currere reflects the “move from curriculum as a noun to a verb [which] broadens the meaning of curriculum … (for) the running of the course
(a verb) is a personal experience” (Doll, 2002, p. 43). This underlying emphasis on individual educational experiences assists educators in their own exploration of these various rationale for 372
the study of the traumatic past. As a consequence of this research, educator may make more informed choices as to why and how they ultimately address difficult knowledge in this context.
Informed decision making as to the selection of rationales, or ‘lens,’ for addressing the study of
Indian residential school history, is a professional and ethical response to the TRC Calls to
Action (2015). This exploratory research also provides guidance towards a way that educators can personally engage in responding to past injustices inflicted upon Indigenous People in
Canada and be better positioned to take active steps themselves towards reconciliation.
9.2.2 Horizontality and Verticality
The CMEC commitment provided a nexus event, a singular curriculum commitment which could be explored through the concepts of horizontality and verticality. Exploring this nexus event through this frame allowed connections between past and present to be made apparent, encouraging a better understanding how the past informs present studies and reciprocally how the present informs the study of the past. In response to a traumatic past that continues to ‘haunt’ Canadian society, academic literature concerning difficult knowledge can be brought into a conversation with contemporary political, cultural and social events. The inclusion of contextual analysis of the law, woven through with Indigenous scholarship adds even greater depth and complexity. Such a research approach was supported using a framing of horizontality and verticality. Horizontality, in research, focuses on the curriculum field within the current intellectual and external circumstances of the field (Pinar, 2007). Informed by interdisciplinary connections and a wider range of societal circumstances, educational consideration of how the present informs curriculum studies is thereby greatly expanded. Such research enquiry is then counter-poised through verticality which connects historical antecedents to current context and understandings. For instance, studying the traumatic past in education is difficult knowledge and 373
in many ways is connected to earlier study of the Holocaust and the concept of crimes against humanity. All prior truth and reconciliation efforts connect to the interpretation of ‘genocide’ which arose out of the world’s reaction to the mass murder of civilians in WWII. These precedential occurrences came to define the relationship with Indigenous People and are the root or foundation for the establishment of the TRC in Canada and the resulting CMEC commitment.
This research framing also highlighted Indigenous perspectives (past and present) and the unique legal aspects underlying Treaties and land claims and how these are relevant to the study of
Canada’s traumatic past. Educational application of rationales is more immediately apparent and the contribution to the curriculum conversation, through verticality (historical antecedents) and horizontality (contemporary context), is enhanced. This research approach allows for greater self-reflexive thought and engagement in ‘dialogic labour’ and provides an ‘intellectual passage between subjectivity and society.’ While achieving a ‘totalizing grasp' or understanding of the field is impossible, such present-day contextual and antecedent study enhances the understanding of, and participation in larger, more complex curriculum conversations (Pinar, 2007, pp xii/xx).
Curriculum inquiry must always be connected to broader historic and contemporary contexts. This is illustrated by this investigation of the CMEC commitment that reveals the legacy of the TRC which will continue to have a significant impact on education in Canada.
Without this analysis, influential factors outside of the field of education may not be apparent to teachers or students in the classroom, nor to academic scholars within the purview of curriculum studies. By weaving threads of ‘voices’ on a research frame (loom) of horizontality (context) and verticality (antecedents) a complex métissage is created. The establishment of the TRC itself, offers an excellent illustration of horizontality and the importance of contemporary contextual factors in curriculum studies. The TRC was part of a Settlement Agreement resolving the largest 374
class action lawsuit in Canada. Subsequently, due to highly publicized nature of the regional forums held by the TRC, significant public awareness was created bringing public pressure to bear on politicians, resulting in the CMEC commitment, which has in turn, initiated an as-yet unrealized potential due to changes in curriculum taking place across the nation. These contextual elements illustrate the far-reaching influence societal factors can have on education, which in this case, extended far beyond the initial legal processes that triggered this chain of events. The ultimate educational legacy of the TRC through the decision to mandate curriculum was precipitated by a socio-political response to the resolution of a class action lawsuit. An example of verticality has already been provided through an exploration of how the CMEC commitment traces back to historic roots in the post-WWII period and the world response to the
Holocaust. Consequently, exploring the question: Why study the traumatic past? has been enhanced by identifying and inter-connecting contextual influences—contemporary and historic—through horizontality and verticality. The reasoning behind such a research approach can be drawn from Huebner: “to be aware of our historical nature … is to be on top of our past, so we can use it as a base for projection into the future” (Huebner, 1999, p. 218). In a world that is continually beset by unresolved conflict and plagued by historic inequities and injustice connecting to the particularities of history within a specific context makes possible “a radical push of curriculum theorizing toward (re)imagining a better future that promises, without promise, bringing into existence that which is yet to come” (Hébert et. al., 2019, p. 2). In this research, I used horizontality and verticality to explore each rationale identified for the study of the traumatic past with an aim to expand the curriculum conversation from both a theoretical and practical perspective. In this way, both practitioners and academics benefit from making interdisciplinary connections and through the grounding of diverse voices including an emphasis 375
upon Indigenous authors. In addition, while academics in the field of education frequently reference the political or social context, law is seldom the subject of consideration and is notably absent in most curriculum studies literature. This is a troubling omission. In particular, legal perspectives have much to add to curriculum concerns respecting citizenship rights, human rights, Indigenous rights, and the connection of the law to reconciliation efforts. Too often educators are completely unaware or misinformed about the law and the legal impacts of case decisions in educational studies. Inclusion of an interdisciplinary perspective and in this instance the weaving of legal discourse into curriculum studies enables a more comprehensive understanding of educational issues. Such an interdisciplinary research approach also makes it possible to include under-represented and unique voices in the complicated conversation of curriculum studies. For instance, the arts community, whose artistic expressions have over generations continued to offer provocation to the status quo. Drawing quotations from novels, plays and other artistic works into the consideration of each rationale, allows us, as educators:
“to be addressed by the artists of our time … the artists ask us to think the unthought of difference … leaving the notion that knowledge is a settled or affirming space” (Britzman, 1998, pp. 59-61). Interlacing samples of artists’ works with the text, is also an essential part of interweaving to broaden and deepen curriculum inquiry into the traumatic past—creating a complex métissage.
9.2.3 Métissage
Everything I have seen, heard and observed, I have collected … my works have
been nourished by countless individuals … I have often reaped what others have
sowed. My work is the work of a collective being that bears the name of Goethe.
(Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe, 1832, in Bollier & Helfrich, 2019, pp. 42-43) 376
Similar to Goethe, I have written this thesis by drawing eclectically on the works of others. This is both an homage to their work and in the process of weaving together the threads of the curriculum conversation—the métissage—it becomes my own work and addresses the research question through my reflection upon, and engagement with, these multitude of voices.
Métissage is defined “as a counter-narrative to the grand narratives of our times, a site for writing and surviving in the interval between different cultures and languages, particularly in colonial contexts" (Hasebe-Ludt et. al., 2009, p. 9). Métissage is an appropriate research approach because it offers an ethical praxis in “the key challenge facing Indigenous peoples today [which] is the assertion of difference in response to the homogenizing power of coloniality” (Donald in Hasebe-Ludt, et. al., 2009, xvii). As a curricular practice métissage reflects one way to address the traumatic past for it engages multiple participants in a (oral or textual) conversation. Personal stories are braided with contextual circumstances including a nation’s history, creating a juxtaposition of difference and affinity. Weaving or braiding provides a metaphor for multi-layered reflection on, and engagement, with intra-cultural, interdisciplinary work, where historical, educational, legal, philosophical, social, artistic and cultural voices enrich and transform conventional approaches to curriculum and curriculum inquiry.
As a research approach, such knowledge gathering reflects the traditional weaving of baskets where fragile single strands are gathered into one stronger whole. In educational efforts, similar to research, it is possible to draw strength from alterity by collaborating and grounding efforts to address issues within the complex dynamics of territory, stewardship, and consciousness (Battiste, 2016). Métissage creates the opportunity for complexity by introducing layers of difference. In this sense, the braiding is well-suited to the concept of ‘difficult learning’ in the context of this study because it challenges the: 377
desire to maintain a version of history that supports the ‘forgetting’ of injustices
both past and continuing … to deny history in an attempt to maintain an
honourable sense of self is powerful and the methods are deeply embedded in the
dominant versions of Canadian historiography. (Dion & Dion, 2008, p. 55)
I purposely chose métissage as a research approach as this made it possible to give voice to those who have an equal right to speak on the issues raised by the research question. Through métissage it is possible to deepen our knowledge and yet not privilege one story over another.
This research has woven many perspectives in order to honour individual voices and their truth, an especially vital concern given that perpetrators in the traumatic past invariably rely on silencing victims’ stories. Dwelling in the shadow of the traumatic past requires an openness to what has been evocatively expressed as the call from the ‘Other’. Maintaining an openness to alterity, requires a willingness to connect, to respond to the ‘call from the stranger’ in order to realize the full depth of one’s own being in this ‘third space’ (Wang, 2004, 129). Drawing on diverse stories, weaving these into the curriculum conversation has the potential to challenge existing educational paradigms. Educational research can generate liminal, in-between, spaces by encouraging a movement away from old, established stories to the collaborative creation of new stories. Finding a new story of relationship and reconciliation and reflecting this narrative in curricula is of paramount importance. Although written in reference to the environment, the following quote resonates with a revisioning of remembrance, relationship and reconciliation in the course of curriculum inquiry:
We are in trouble just now because we do not have a good story. We are in
between stories. The old story, the account of how we fit into it is no longer
effective. Yet we do not have a new story. (Berry in Suzuki, 2007, p. 19) 378
Métissage as a research approach can offer a new story, such as identifying the paramountcy of reciprocal relationships—with insights arising from the stories of Indigenous People who were historically dismissed or obscured by past colonial constructs (McGregor et. al., 2018).
This image of weaving a connection is also illustrative of the reciprocity between the horizontality of the legal, social, political contexts intertwined with the verticality of educational concepts, their philosophical history and lineage and the connection of both to a specific curriculum ‘moment in time’. This approach which combined métissage with horizontality and verticality and connected these to a nexus event (CMEC Commitment), grounds theory in a particular reality—the nexus event—where educational concepts and principles are not
“brandished from the clouds of a theory that never touches the ground” (kulchyski, 2013, p. 79).
Métissage is realized in the warp and weft of interdisciplinarity and a weaving metaphor for the research also reflects an Indigenous understanding of the delicate threads that connect all things
(Tootoosis, 1988) as well as Tikkun Olam which is a concept in Judaism of ‘mending the net’ as synonymous with the duty to ‘repair the world’. Métissage is important for its visual imagery:
As we embrace this process, we can begin to untangle the knots in our minds and
practices that have created the existing web of knowledge so that we can weave a
whole new cloth with threads that create a coherent but diversified pattern.
(Battiste, 2010, p. 17)
Symbolically métissage also recognizes the choice of becoming a person who is committed to
“repair those connections when the threads of relationships are frayed and broken … to replace and reweave the threads of relationship” (Moore, 2017, pp. 19-20). Métissage can frame a research methodology that braids diverse stories and weaves these stories with Indigenous and
Canadian perspectives to shift the critical consciousness of writer and reader, storyteller and 379
listener. Such interweaving of perspectives reflects a relationality that at present needs to happen, at least in theoretical work, because it has not yet occurred or been appreciated in the daily interactions and practices of living together in this place we call Canada. (Donald, 2012, p. 549).
This weaving, the praxis of métissage, as both a research approach and as a metaphor, has enabled me to select the threads of the research conversation and to thread through key quotations into the warp and weft of a framework established by verticality and horizontality. In a world of increasing division and polarized thinking, métissage offers a way to inter-mingle original voices and add complexity to the complicated conversation without engaging in debate or argument. The choice to include numerous direct quotations was an intentional decision to honour the language (word choices) and phrasing of the original speakers. This approach also respects the reader who has greater confidence as to accuracy which can be verified by accessing primary source materials. In this way, the conversation or ‘story’ has greater authenticity by juxtaposing original voices, referencing primary sources, and thereby more accurately reflecting diversity within the curriculum as a complicated conversation.
9.2.4 Curriculum as Complicated Conversation
My research investigated the inclusion of the traumatic past in the curriculum through a review of the various rationale given for such study. At the crux of this deliberation is the question: ‘What knowledge of most worth?’ According to Pinar, this question is, and must remain, the centre piece of all educational endeavours (Pinar in Doll, 2017, p. 204). To fully engage with this question—whether the study of the traumatic past is considered to be ‘of most worth’ required individual reflection and dialogic interaction as part of the complicated conversation that is curriculum. This conversation is deepened by connecting to the specificity of time and place and while métissage is often conceived of as an autobiographical endeavour 380
requiring subjective interaction with texts, ‘there is always space for new voices’ (Doll, 2002, pp.
48-49). My research has combined many voices, a research métissage, where the interaction with alterity (text or ‘Other’) ultimately enables and enhances both our exploration and self- understanding.
The curriculum conversation has a deep connection to the past and historic roots. The
TRC similarly identified the importance of past events: "History plays an important role in reconciliation; to build for the future, Canadians must look to, and learn, from the past" (TRC
Final Report, v1, 2015, p. 8). The commitment of CMEC to include the history Indian residential schools in the curriculum requires educators to connect with a “broader world of ideas, past, present, and future. If this sense of curriculum studies is to flourish, it is only through a conversation that is historically grounded” (Christou & DeLuca, 2019, p. 29). However, including difficult knowledge and the study of the traumatic past is not to be undertaken lightly.
Such curriculum creates an educational experience where subjectivity is, or should be, paramount, despite the possibility that personal unsettling, even suffering, may be invoked.
What this research reveals, is that by adopting an Indigenous approach to such study— through hearing the stories and becoming a witness to the traumatic past, there is a corresponding openness to the fragility of life, the devastation of loss, and the uncertainty of simply being human, but it also opens up possibilities for respect of the ‘Other,’ highlighting relationality, and the importance of reconciliation. Engaging with difficult knowledge, presents an opportunity to come to new understandings and to new ways of thinking and being. What the research also discloses is that this educational experience, of studying the traumatic past, is not a consumer product. It does not provide status or accreditation, rather it is a personal experience that must be lived through or to some extent endured. The educator’s role therefore cannot be reduced to 381
implementing a series of curriculum prescriptions, framed as a prescribed set of class-room activities or delivered in prepared course materials developed in accordance with ‘best practices.’
What should now be evident, is that this ‘simple’ curriculum commitment of CMEC was in actuality a much more complex and challenging undertaking because it offered no easy or ‘quick fix’ solutions by merely adding new content to existing curricula. In fact, CMEC failed to address many vital questions that educators must now consider, such as: What might be at stake in a curriculum of remembrance based on the sharing of testimonies of the traumatic past? This question is considered in Chapter 5. What does it mean for students and teachers to listen and bear personal witness to the narratives of Indian residential school Survivors? This question is addressed in Chapters 6 and 7. And finally: What does reconciliation mean, both for society and personally, in the shadow of Canada’s colonial past? This was the central question considered in
Chapter 8. This final question, of what ‘reconciliation’ means in ‘action’, is particularly integral to the ongoing curriculum conversation for as "Huebner appreciated, the pedagogical question is also an ethical one: how are we to conduct ourselves?" (Pinar, 2007, p. 5). The curriculum conversation cannot neglect this aspect of ethical choice, for “the activity of teaching is a moral activity. It is never amoral. (Although it) can be, and sometimes is, immoral” (Huebner, 1996, p.
267). As noted by David Jardine, the greatest challenge in education is that "we cannot do to children what we have not already done to ourselves" (Jardine, 2006, p. 184). So, it follows that studying Indian residential school history in the classroom requires careful examination of one’s rationale for engaging in the study of the traumatic past. Without full a consideration of these rationales or motivation for such study, the educational experiences will not fully realize the potential legacy of the TRC or move Canadian society forward on the path to reconciliation.
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The complicated conversation is in many ways a curriculum story comprised of countless diverse voices. Sharing stories is a recognized learning process in Indigenous culture as well as a way for the past to be embodied in the present. However, understanding and integrating stories is a slow process when compared to the contemporary expectation of instant gratification:
It can take many years after hearing a story to know the meaning of that story in
one’s heart—for it to become a truth—yet the process of it becoming heart
knowledge or Debwewin is the process of integrating that echo into one’s
experience … Elders are constantly telling us (particularly writers and academics)
one has to live the knowledge in order to know it. (Simpson, 2011, p. 104)
Engaging in research through a ‘curriculum conversation’ is way of sharing learnings which may involve engaging with scholarly ‘voices’ through text, drawing on victim testimony, or story- work. Storytelling is an important Indigenous tradition, particularly in education, according to
Jo-ann Archibald, and “one does not have to give a meaning right after hearing a story, as with the question-and-answer pedagogical approach. An important consideration is hearing stories over time so that they become embedded in memory” (Archibald, 2008, p. 25). Archibald (Stó-lö name: Q’um Q’um Xiiem) has promoted educational story work as well as oral traditions and
Indigenous worldviews that had been repressed and were almost lost as a result of Indian residential schools (CBC, 2018). This research has revealed that drawing on a diversity of
‘voices’ in the curriculum conversation, similar to Indigenous story-work, similarly allows for the possibility of ‘slow learning.’
In the telling this particular ‘curriculum story’ I have drawn upon a wide range of sources using primarily direct quotations interwoven with my own commentary. This approach to research and academic analysis is rooted in my background in law where scholarship relies upon 383
direct referencing of legal authorities, both academic and judicial. I have consciously adopted this style of intertwining description and explanations with direct quotations, recognizing that this diverges from the common practice in academic writing in education which relies upon summarizing what others have said followed by a list of named authorities in brackets in support of one’s summary and analysis. The academic practice in legal studies offers a stark contrast to now common use of paraphrasing in the humanities, because the norm in such research is to quote judges directly from their court decisions. To relate what is said by a judge, using your own words, risks misinterpreting, or worse manipulating, what was actually said in a judgement or as judicial commentary. Because the judiciary chose their words very carefully (in light of possible appeals), paraphrasing jeopardizes meaning by losing important nuance. Direct quotations respect both the original speakers and the readers who are provided with a reference to source material so that they can reach their own conclusions. As I have drawn other voices into the curriculum conversation, I have bestowed the same respect to Indigenous writers and academic scholars as I would routinely confer upon a judge. Therefore, in most instances, I have included direct quotes so that thoughts are expressed in the original words and are joined to the curriculum conversation intact. Frequently, even where thoughts are presented in summary form rather than a direct quote, if there is a specific location where an idea, message or concept can be found then a page number is included so readers may locate the original source and discover for themselves the content and the context in which the author provided their insights. Relying directly on quotations also acknowledges the Indigenous belief that “one can only speak about what they know to be true from direct experience” (Simpson, 2011, p. 104) and to this end, in respect to Indigenous worldviews, customs and traditions, quotes were used as I relied entirely on the truth as expressed by others. Pinar (2019) suggests that a juxtaposition of voices creates a 384
form of orality, a dialogue, that in my estimation is enhanced by the choice of citation methods which invite the reader to return to the original sources. Orality in this sense is participatory and while orality is most often associated with Indigenous peoples, there are strong European oral traditions as well for orality has deep roots in world history and universal provenance.
9.3 Summary of Findings for Educators
My research uncovered a number of noteworthy aspects that can be applied in the field of curriculum studies in particular, and to educational policy and practice generally. The following
‘findings’ are grouped under the chapter in which they were covered in greater depth.
9.3.1 Chapter 3 (Historical Understanding) Findings
In Chapter 3, I discussed the transmission of history in light of relevant social, political and legal contexts as a way to better understand the traumatic past. However, in Canada there is notable risk in adopting the single lens of historical consciousness—an academic focus on what historians ‘do’ presented in a type of academic vocationalism—in studying Indian residential school history, for if students are only expected to become ‘skillful historians,’ this will not achieve the potential the TRC foresaw in recommending the inclusion the study of this history in the curriculum. Therefore, educators must include Indigenous perspectives and acknowledge the significance of oral history, especially Survivor testimony, because both provide an integral grounding for understanding the traumatic past. In the Canadian context this will also better prepare students for taking steps towards reconciliation.
9.3.2 Chapter 4 (Citizenship Education) Findings
In Chapter 4, I recognized that citizenship education was more easily understood if it is separated into four distinct subject categories rather than the aims being intertwined without further distinction or being combined in an outcomes-based organizational model as currently 385
exists in the academic literature. The four areas I identified in order to consider the rationale of
‘citizenship’ for the study of the traumatic past, are: 1) democratic education; 2) human rights; 3) social justice; and 4) interpersonal relations – engaging with the ‘Other’.
9.3.2.1 Democratic Education
Democratic Education: There are three aspects of educating for democracy in Canada, in the shadow of the traumatic past, that the research disclosed were required for citizenship education.
First, is recognizing, “democracy embodies the notion of public reason that enables us to deliberate across differences and to find common ground in polar opposites” (Murchland, 2008, p. 9). This requires encouraging respectful deliberation as a vital requirement for democracy to flourish. Therefore, educational efforts must move beyond merely presenting an overview of societal institutions that support democracy, to encouraging respectful dialogue and engaging in debate as these are the energizing principle of a democratic society. Second, citizenship education must adopt approaches that provide students with actual practice in democratic governance, so curricula are not entirely focused on only offering a theoretical foundation in citizenship skills and knowledge. Finally, the third aspect in citizenship is related to understanding rights and responsibilities based upon the distinct political history and make-up of our nation, which includes the official recognition of multiculturalism and the ‘Living Tree’ doctrine of the Constitution. In addition, and this morphs into the discussion of human rights, s.35 of the Constitution as well as key legal decisions recognize Aboriginal (Indigenous) rights as something different, something ‘more,’ than human rights and all of these aspects are critical for a basic understanding of current governance and should be included in curricula.
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9.3.2.2 Human Rights
Human Rights: While it is imperative to be introduced to the roots of universal human rights, which arose in the aftermath of the Holocaust and subsequent UN declarations, it is equally important in Canada to become acquainted with the concept of collective rights in contrast to a solely individualistic rights approach. Familiarization with collective rights is essential as this reflects a closer alignment with Indigenous Peoples’ perspectives on the fundamental importance of relationships in society and balances an emphasis on individual rights which are disconnected to the corresponding responsibilities to ‘all my relations.’
9.3.2.3 Social Justice
Social Justice: The third area identified in citizenship education, is a focus on social justice that brings an important perspective to the study of the traumatic past where the purpose is to critique and address societal inequities which often have their basis in historical injustices. However, as identified in this research, the aim of such educational efforts must emphasize personal engagement in ‘how to think’ (as opposed to the specifics of ‘what to think’) for while it is necessary to impart a solid foundation in respect to historical and contemporary contexts for current issues in society it is equally important to enable individuals, once they are informed, to accept the responsibility of choosing their own course of action. Specifically, in respect to the study of the history of Indian residential schools this would include whether or not students choose to become an ally or what specific steps (if any) they take toward reconciliation. Of course, it is also a legitimate educational approach to consider in dialogic engagement with students to explore the possible consequences of these choices. So, taking no action towards reconciliation has potential costs which must also be considered. A two-pronged approach of providing content without imposing authoritative direction for student action is an ethical 387
approach, in recognition of the vital importance of agency in all human beings. Advising students as to specific choices they ‘should’ make based on information presented, particularly within the ‘power-over’ dynamics of the school system, is (or should be) anathema to social justice educators.
9.3.2.4 Interpersonal Relationships
Interpersonal Relationships (SEL): The fourth aspect of citizenship received the greatest emphasis by the TRC—the importance of interpersonal relationships and how the study of the traumatic past in Canada must engage the heart as well as the head. While SEL has taken a prominent role in many schools, restorative justice principles (RJP) may have more to offer in terms of addressing the harms of the traumatic past that continue to resonate in society and restoring relationships, through a connection with Indigenous worldview that ‘we are all one’.
Fostering positive relationships through a better understanding of the ‘Other’ acknowledges that diversity can be seen as a source of strength rather than as divisive. While this is certainly a desirable outcome, arguments to implement SEL and encourage acceptance of diversity, are often based on instrumentalist arguments aimed at the promoting global competitiveness rather than national cooperative citizenship. Therefore, greater emphasis in education on RJP, particularly in relation to addressing the traumatic past, is a preferred justification for improving interpersonal relationship skills.
In conclusion, a multifaceted approach to citizenship education using all four aspects will help prepare students to face the challenges of citizenship including addressing ongoing harms of colonialism, repairing relationships, and living up to responsibilities as Treaty people within this land. Reconciliatory efforts will mean a commitment to tackling complex issues such as land claims and self-government. Even more challenging will be adopting Indigenous perspectives in 388
repairing human and non-human relations as illustrated in ‘seven-generation’ thinking in respect to resource management and environmental protection.
9.3.3 Chapter 5 (Existential Study) Findings
In Chapter 5, the nexus of trauma, history, memory and identity is explored which according to La Capra (2016) is an area of a growing, widespread interest. Yet when studying the traumatic past, we can never be assured such study will adequately address the harmful effects of the past or the even the ongoing inequities in the present. While such study is a necessary step forward on the path to reconciliation there is no guarantee of a safer and more equitable world because “we just cannot know” (Garrett, 2017, p. 19). In fact, Brizman (1998) argues that there is trauma in education itself, in “[education’s] incapacity to respond adequately to its own history of ‘bad faith and cruelty’ … [and] the ways education can deny its own implication in the knowledge it offers” (Britzman, 1998, p. 52). In the end, education as a whole is “rather risky business whose outcome and full consequences can never be known in advance” (Britzman,
1998, p.54). Therefore, the turn toward the ‘Other’ which is always identified as a requirement of studying the traumatic past, offers no assurance that this will be sufficient to foster ethical thinking in one who studies or ultimately prevent future acts of violence in society (Simon, 2014, p. 211). Still, the study of the traumatic past, based on a rationale of prompting existentialist deliberation and choice, remains an act of personal ‘hope’ or ‘resolve’ founded on the premise that a nation’s history is not determined by fate but is rather a path created by individuals, as citizens of a nation, and is contingent on the individual decisions people make (Morris, 2001). To this end, the TRC encouraged students to become ‘witnesses’ to the stories of Survivors as a way to link what they heard about historic events of disturbing violence with a collective experience of active engagement by choosing to become an emissary and return to their schools with their 389
experiential story. Providing choices and a way to engage with the world offers a path forward to an individual who is working through the personal trauma of studying past atrocities. This approach is beneficial by generating thoughtful realizations as a result of such study and can potentially inform future life choices. Ultimately such engagement with the traumatic past requires each individual to be present, to ‘think,’ as Arendt understood it—being the inner silent dialogue at the intersection of the past and the future (Kohn, 2006, p.xvii) and as Arendt also advised, it requires one to recursively turn from thought to action and then back again to thought.
According to Arendt we are all thrust into a liminal space between remembrance and anticipation and every new human being must insert themselves “between an infinite past and an infinite future, [and] must discover and ploddingly pave it anew” (Arendt, 2006, p. 13). Education, in this existential formation of the self, requires knowledge of the past in order to prepare the individual to ‘insert’ themselves, through the choices they make to act in this present moment between the past and the future. Difficult knowledge and an exploration of this relationship with the ‘Other’ clarifies why a consideration of existential understanding is a pivotal rationale for studying the traumatic past.
9.3.4 Chapters 6, 7, and 8 (Hearing, Witness, Reconciliation) Findings
In Chapters 6, 7, and 8, I emphasize the fundamental role of witness testimony in education and in the study of the traumatic past. In Canada, Survivor stories can have a powerful impact when included in the curriculum by encouraging a personal connection to the past and the study of Indian residential school history. These stories may also provide an impetus to accept the ‘call to witness’ as an important part of reconciliation. Telling stories establishes deep connections for the listener and is an approach to learning with significant emotional resonance
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and links to the traditional Indigenous worldview that ‘we are all related.’ This inter-related way of seeing the world and of living our lives:
is not merely a sentiment; it is a very real baseline and respect for all our relatives
… to acknowledge and enact one’s responsibility to another. Living in relationship
with others isn’t just a good feeling or an abstract concept, it is taking
responsibility for every aspect of your life because everything you do in your life
affects other entities in the Web of Life. (Moore, 2017, p. 25)
Chapter 8 focused on reconciliation as a rationale for the study of the traumatic past. The TRC in their Final Report (2015) and the TRC Calls to Action (2015) provided an agenda for government and organizations writ large to engage in acts of reconciliation and it also provided a way forward for individuals by highlighting the role of education and relationship. The TRC
Reconciliation Ambassador, Chief Dr. Robert Joseph, provided guidance for these individual efforts when he stated:
Reconciliation includes anyone with an open heart and an open mind, who is
willing to look to the future in a new way. Let us find a way to belong to this time
and place together. Our future, and the well-being of all our children rests with the
kind of relationships we build today. (TRC Final Report, v1, 2015, p. 315)
However, one of the most significant messages of this rationale, is that reconciliation will require reconnecting not just with the human ‘Other’ but also requires restoring and repairing the web of interdependent relationships with ‘all our relations’ which includes the natural and the human world (Tully, 2018).
In the Canadian context, if all of the rationales identified for studying the history of
Indian residential schools are taken into consideration, it is immediately apparent there is 391
significant potential to challenge the foundations of the education system. Currently the core of
Canadian education is dominated by colonial constructs, with teaching practice and curriculum content which continues to privilege Western empiricism (the search for certainty and rationality), linearity, and the duality of human versus ‘other than human’ relationships.
Challenging these assumptions is an important starting place, however simply adding curriculum content will not be sufficient to do this because integrating an Indigenous worldview requires a holistic approach of body, heart and spirit. While focusing on competitive individualism and hierarchical authoritarianism are currently at the fore-front in education, there are historic precedents to recognize more collaborative approaches. In terms of content, the ‘commons’ or community interests and focus on responsibilities as being equal to, or even greater than, individuals’ rights claims, also offer possible alternatives that should be included and could guide development of curricula. While these different ways of understanding the world are incommensurable in many ways (Battiste, 2002), nonetheless, exploring Indigenous and non-
Indigenous world views reveal they are not necessarily, in opposition. Recognizing both traditions may actually strengthen the educational experience for all students. For example, standard educational practices will be enhanced by incorporating Indigenous ways of knowing through a ‘two-eyed seeing’ approach which may include experiential and land-based learning, circular connection, spirituality, storytelling and ceremony. Indigenous ways of knowing and educational approaches have been historically decentred, marginalized and diminished. Within the present educational system, ‘what is known’ and ‘ways of knowing’ as well as the ways to teach future generations have favoured certainty and control and this has become the predominant goal of a curriculum that “is always pre-set, prior, and external to the learning activity” (Doll, 2020, p. 35). This is the ultimate ‘ghost in the curriculum’ that continues to haunt 392
the education system (Doll, 2002). To this end, stories of the traumatic past may instigate a significant disruptive force through offering authentic encounters with the ‘Other’ which cannot be contained or controlled because they are not predictive of specific curriculum outcomes.
Studying the traumatic past, in this openness, is therefore ‘liberatory’ and in alignment with an understanding of education as being the creation of possibilities and the exploration of
‘becoming,’ in a world that is similarly incomplete and unfinished. In this sense education can become a truly transformational activity (Friere, 1998, p. 58).
Educators may discover, that the study of the traumatic past and consequential unsettling which occurs, provides an opportune moment to explore, what has been identified in curriculum studies as a space for the potentiality of something new and transformative to arise (Eppert &
Wang, 2008). One example is an alternate reading of the national constitution which includes the spiritual and philosophical world views of Indigenous People and their relationship to the land.
This alternative requires a significant shift in mindset and yet better represents the initial treaty relationships including the anticipated benefits and responsibilities more accurately (Burrows,
2019). An openness to, and better understanding of, Indigenous civilizations, onto which the graft of newcomers was attached, would encourage students to see the significant historic and cultural contributions of Indigenous People and how their worldview has influenced the psyche of our nation (Saul, 2008). Two such influences Saul (2008), identifies are a recognition in this country of a finer balance between individual and collective rights and an underlying preference for negotiation over violent confrontation. Recognizing this inheritance may allow Canadians to perceive “the true nature and real potential, in one word, the soul of our marvellous country,
Canada” (Sioui, 2019, p. 135). One final comment in respect to reconciliation, as a rationale, is to acknowledge the diversity of meanings and the dynamic nature of this concept. While the 393
judiciary have set out in a series of legal decisions what is required from government, the challenge of reconciliation, for individuals and institutions is that guidance must be sought from
Indigenous People in order to clarify respective roles and responsibilities (Datta, 2020, p. 3).
9.4 Limitations of the Study and Areas for Further Research
In any future assessment as to the efficacy of the CMEC commitment in actually promoting reconciliation efforts in Canada, recent developments will need to be factored into the equation. For example, the Ontario government has already cancelled a planned revision of curriculum containing Indigenous course content (Johnson, 2018) using the justification that this was a necessary ‘cost-cutting’ measure. While the Ministry of Education (Ontario) has stated it
“will continue to move forward with” the curriculum revisions related to the TRC, at this time there is no indication of when this will actually happen (Crawley, 2018, para 11). This one example illustrates how the context for this study remains in flux. It also highlights the sobering reality that lack of follow-though could undermine the benefits I identify in this research regarding the six rationales for studying our traumatic past. The TRC identified education as being ‘key to reconciliation’ (TRC Final Report, v.1, 2015) and highlighted the crucial role of educators in remedying the gaps in knowledge that can perpetuate racism. It is important to recognize that “some provinces and territories have made strides in including Indigenous knowledge and history in school curricula but in others, teachers say they are left to push forward on their own” (Kabatay & Johnson, 2019, para 2). This is true, for example, in Quebec where there is no mandatory Indigenous content in the curriculum and the lack of guidance and support for non-Indigenous teachers on how to teach Indigenous perspectives remains an ongoing challenge (Kabatay & Johnson, 2019). Even provinces that follow through with the
CMEC commitment will experience uneven implementation due to lack of support in some 394
school districts and the potentially overwhelming challenges individual teachers face when delving into Indian residential school history. The actual practice of teachers in the classroom might falter as a result of a lack of training, ability, or inclination and thus diverge from their espoused aims (rationales) in addressing our traumatic past. The school setting may also impede or inhibit educational efforts to address the traumatic past if educators do not feel supported by their institutional context.
Future areas for study therefore include questions, based not only on this research and the findings, but also on the challenges identified. Questions, such as:
1) How might the rationales identified as justifications for the study of the traumatic past be explored further or expanded?
2) How can educational efforts better support the study of Indian residential school history within the institutional context? Such further studies might include quantitative research of definitive measures such as a consideration of time allocated or qualitative studies, such as exploring the experience of teachers and students when wholistic engagement with such subject matter was encouraged; and
3) What professional development or resources may be required to more fully support educators in their engagement with difficult knowledge?
Curriculum guides and resources will be developed in response to the CMEC curriculum commitment in several provinces. However, the full benefit of studying the traumatic past can never be formulaic nor will it be realized by adopting a particular method or set of materials alone. There is no easy fix or ‘silver bullet.’ Instead, a philosophical appreciation is required—an understanding that studying the traumatic past is primarily a subjective experience of ‘being or becoming someone’ as opposed to the educational endeavour of strictly ‘knowing something.’ 395
Particular curriculum content or the mechanics of ‘how’ to teach the traumatic past in the classroom were not considered in this research. Nonetheless, my review of the rationales would confirm that adopting prescriptive approaches with pre-determined outcomes are counter- productive to student agency, irrespective of whatever rationale is chosen as a justification for the study of the traumatic past. A preferred approach is to establish over-arching aims based on an Indigenous understanding of education, where:
Teachers are shouldered with the responsibility of facilitating experiences where
students can explore who they are, their gifts, and their purpose in life …
[teaching] youth to take ownership of their learning as well as to question and
explore the world around them. (Michell, 2013, p. 7)
The carefully considered adoption of a specific rationale must be understood, of course, as being impactful in terms of both the ‘curriculum as planned,’ as well as ‘curriculum as lived,’ in the classroom. Choices made by educators will have their genesis in a corresponding meaning system whether consciously derived from personal beliefs, goals or values or whether substantially a reflection of unconscious motivations.
One concern that arose for me and is particularly worrisome, although beyond the purview of this research, is that past studies of Holocaust and anti-racist education have revealed that teachers are often unclear about the purpose of engaging in the study of the traumatic past.
This is evident in their lack of clarity as to whether their primary purpose is to educate students with the aim of knowledge (cognitive) acquisition or whether seeking empathetic (affective) understanding was the preferred response. These two justifications or aims require very different educational approaches to subject matter so the lack of clarity in identifying the underlying rationale for such study is problematic. In addition, educators tended toward a shallow 396
investigation of historic events, such as genocide rather than enabling a deeper analysis of the traumatic past. Equally troubling, as evidenced in the teaching the Holocaust was a reliance on pedagogical practices which reflected the traditional, vertical transmission of knowledge from teacher to student (Moisan, Hirsch & Audet, 2015, p. 249) rather than encouraging more meaningful interactions which focused on attitudes or even concrete action. Generally, “students were not required to engage in a reflective and critical approach” (Moisan, Hirsch & Audet,
2015, 263) an approach which is generally more effective in challenging existing beliefs and behaviours. Consequently, further research would be required to study the implementation of curricula and question whether the approaches and content actually engage students and challenge them to question their existing beliefs and values? This is a potential benefit and a risky encounter as those who study the traumatic past must confront personal understandings through engaging with difficult knowledge and recognize that such engagement may cause them to feel conflict, discomfort, doubt and even personal crisis (Aitken & Radford, 2019).
Consequently, educators must carefully consider what self-formulation means in this context because existential questions and subjective exploration are integral to such study. If such educational experiences are reflective the German theory of Bildung (Pinar, 2007, p. 3) with its emphasis upon one's being in the world, relationality and subjective self-formation through study, then the question must be asked: How well is the present education system equipped to support such deep learning?
In the final analysis however, perhaps the most serious systemic barrier to a deep engagement with the study of Indian residential school history is the current focus on preparation for examinations. This focus overshadows studying the traumatic past by emphasizing subject matter that is testable or engaging with existential uncertainties of personal growth is neglected 397
in an instrumental trade-off where preparation for provincial exams and comparative academic assessments are prioritized. Personal growth is problematic to assess and can really only be encouraged and supported through self-assessment, reflective journals and portfolios which provide a subjective documentation of personal understanding and growth (Evans, 2006). In contrast, emphasis on standardized testing is incompatible with several of the rationales identified for the study of the traumatic past study. Referencing a comparable example, a study of citizenship education, found teachers’ evaluation practices were often restricted to:
[Assessments of] knowledge acquisition and basic skill development and rarely
move beyond these learning dimensions, even when official learning goals are
more broadly stated … [there is] an urgent need to develop effective assessment
approaches that align more directly with the broader learning goals associated with
this curricula area. (Evans, 2006, p. 424).
All of these areas for future study are critical from an education perspective. In order to address concerns identified, further research is urgently required.
9.5 Broader Application of Research – Canada and Beyond
The CMEC curriculum commitment was made in response to public pressure and there is clear evidence of support for reconciliation across Canada. Efforts to address this CMEC mandate and modify educational content and methods reflect a realization that “there is growing need for Indigenous voices and Indigenous scholarship to inform new and renewed practices in all areas of our society” (Markides, 2018, p. xvii) including education. Issues that need to be the focus of educational efforts, include, addressing a previous lack of knowledge of Indian residential school history, exploring the ongoing harms caused by colonialism, and identifying the need to fully recognize and honour Treaty commitments and address land claims. Finally, as 398
identified by Chelsea Vowel, current relationships must be mended, because “at the end of the day, we are still going to have to figure out how to relate to one another. We begin that process by understanding the fundamental issues” (Vowel, 2016, p. 3). The way to move forward:
Requires a look back while charting a new path into unknown territory and
rebuilding relationships … moving forward requires recognition of this complex
and horrific past, which defies the carefully molded national identity of Canada as
a multicultural success on the global stage. (Chabot, 2018, p. 23)
However, Canada is not alone in needing to better understand and address the traumatic past through education. Across the globe countries have experienced events in history associated with trauma, particularly in nations with Indigenous populations and a colonial past. Identification and detailed study of the rationales for the study of the traumatic past have particular significance for
Indigenous people and for national education systems across the continent of America (North and South). The need is pronounced as there is a resurgence of solidarity and strength in
Indigenous communities, and:
After more than five centuries of being crushed, silenced and thought extinguished
forever, the voices of the Indigenous American peoples and nations are making
themselves heard, ever louder and clearer. And they are now finding open ears and
hearts everywhere, amongst all peoples, here and abroad. (Sioui, 2019, p. 166)
Reconciliatory efforts in Canada are particularly imperative at this time, because, “the world is watching and we have here an opportunity to showcase our compassion and that we are taking care of each other” (Joseph in Carr, 2013, p. 29). Therefore, educational efforts toward studying the traumatic past have resonance in Canada and beyond, for there is much to be learned that is relevant to education world-wide. 399
9.6 Reconciliation: Legal Analysis and the Law
It’s a big word, reconciliation. It requires truth and true humility, on both sides.
As Aboriginal people, we have an incredible capacity for survival and endurance,
as well as for forgiveness … [yet] despite the horrors, it is possible to move
forward and leave hurt behind … that is how reconciliation will happen.
(Wagamese, 2015, p. 31)
Many Indigenous writers have noted that the TRC was primarily about the ‘truth’ and reconciliation has yet to happen. I identify in this research that a ‘good start’ toward reconciliation for all Canadians, especially educators and students, is to become aware of the post-Charter decisions of our highest court because these decisions set out clear parameters for reconciliation. Based on an understanding that ‘we all here to stay,’ we need to find a better way to live together, to address ongoing harms from years of colonialism and to resolve outstanding issues. Learning to live together in a better way would encourage the changes in society, including in education, that are necessary to restore a relationship of ‘peace and friendship’ as envisioned in early Treaties. The SCC has identified the importance of s.35 of the Charter
(Constitution Act, 1982) and Treaties for while an understanding of the traumatic past is necessary, it is not sufficient, and for this reason the SCC encourages all of us to ‘paddle forward’ toward reconciliation:
The reconciliation of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Canadians in a mutually
respectful, long-term relationship is the grand purpose of s.35 of the Constitution
Act, 1982. The modern treaties … attempt to further the objective of reconciliation
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not only by addressing grievances over the land claims but by creating the legal
basis to foster a positive long-term relationship between Aboriginal and non-
Aboriginal communities … the treaty is as much about building relationships as it
is about the settlement of ancient grievances. The future is more important than
the past. A canoeist who hopes to make progress faces forward, not backward.
(Beckman v. Little Salmon/Carmacks First Nation, at para 10, emphasis added)
John Burrows (2018) references numerous judicial decisions in support of his argument that
“Canadian law dictate[s] that the treaties be given a large, liberal, and generous perspective, and be interpreted as Indians would naturally understand them” (Burrows, 2018, p. 79, Note 84) at the time when they entered into these Treaties as well as in contemporary times. Respecting
Treaties as an integral part of Canada’s governance and constitutional structure is an interpretation which could have additional environmental benefits by adopting an Indigenous understanding of land stewardship because all treaties are “rooted in particular environments, with the goal of sustainably using ecosystems in ways that preserve Indigenous land-based life”
(Burrows, 2018, p. 63). Committing to environmental protection as an intrinsic part of Canadian
Treaty relationships recognizes that “reconciliation between Indigenous peoples and the Crown requires our collective reconciliation with the land … [because] we are earthbound, and our laws and practices must be revitalized to recognize and respond to this vital fact” (Burrows, 2018, p.
69). The SCC has identified that Aboriginal title pre-exists any claim of the Crown, although these land-based rights are unique because First Nations People hold a communal claim to live on, and beneficially use, the land. Therefore, the SCC has stated:
401
Aboriginal land comes with an important restriction – it is collective title held not
only for the present generation but for all succeeding generations. This means it
cannot be … encumbered in ways that would prevent future generations of the
group from using it and enjoying it. Nor can the land be developed or misused in a
way that would substantially deprive future generations of the benefit of the land.
Tsilhqot’in Nation v. British Columbia, 2014, (at para 74)
Burrows makes a persuasive argument that even when title is transferred to the Crown through
Treaty, such agreements can only grant what is originally held based on the legal principle of
‘inherent limits,’ therefore, “since Aboriginal title is constitutionalized, the Crown’s activities are limited by Aboriginal title’s existence” (Burrows, 2018, p. 62). Consequently, all Canadian lands are held by Indigenous People and by the Crown subject to the seven-generation rule—that the land and waters must be used responsibly and only to the extent that would preserve ongoing benefits for those yet to be born. Adopting environmental stewardship, focusing on responsible use of renewal resources and preserving the land for seven generations into the future provides a powerful example of how incorporating Indigenous perspectives, grounded in legal analysis, has incredible potential to modify or completely rewrite existing (Eurocentric) legal traditions and over-turn consumer driven, short-term exploitation of the environment. Justice Hutcheon, in
Delgamuukw (1997) identified Indigenous title as being unlike ‘normal’ property interests, it is described as sui generis (unique) for it is held communally: “Aboriginal title cannot be held by individual aboriginal persons; it is a collective right to land held by all members of an aboriginal nation. Decisions with respect to that land are also made by that community” (Delgamuukw,
1997, para. 115). Consequently, Justice Hutcheon found that these collective Indigenous claims
402
to traditional territory means meaningful consultation is required if resource development is proposed in any way that interferes with, or destroys, the traditional bonds of Indigenous People with that land:
Aboriginal title arises from the prior occupation of Canada by aboriginal peoples
… [and] the historic rights of aboriginal peoples to land; it also seeks to afford
legal protection to prior occupation in the present-day. Implicit in the protection of
historic patterns of occupation is a recognition of the importance of the continuity
of the relationship of an aboriginal community to its land over time (para 126).
Accordingly, in my view, lands subject to aboriginal title cannot be put to such
uses as may be irreconcilable with the nature of the occupation of that land and
the relationship that the particular group has had with the land which together
have given rise to aboriginal title in the first place (Delgamuukw, 1997, para 128).
While all educators interested in reconciliation should incorporate Indigenous legal perspectives and lessons from the law into the curriculum, teachers involved in land-based education in particular will want to explore legal analysis of Delgamuukw and the Indigenous analysis of the
Canadian Constitution, 1982 and Treaty relationships as set out by John Borrows (Borrows,
2010a; 2016; 2018; Borrows & Coyle, 2017). If Borrow’s analysis of both case law and the constitutional framework founded on the early Treaties acquires wide-spread recognition and application in the legal system, then the result will be that land use and environmental protection in Canada will have to be completely rethought.
403
9.7 Reconciliation and Resurgence
In the research study, the emphasis has been upon reconciliation—in fact this was identified as one of the six rationale for the study of the traumatic past. Resurgence within
Indigenous communities is an equally important phenomenon with the one fundamental difference being that resurgence is appropriately situated with Indigenous People who will determine how it is best to move forward. While reconciliation and resurgence, as movements, may be considered metaphorically as ‘two-sides of the same coin,’ it is non-Indigenous people who have a primary responsibility for furthering reconciliation efforts. For this reason, only reconciliation was referenced as a rationale, not resurgence.
Providing a brief overview of resurgence, which is an intrinsic aspect of decolonization, assists in clarifying this research decision. There are two prominent perspectives amongst
Indigenous People, representing positions that are oppositional in nature. The first, “resurgence view of decolonization calls for a turn away from the settler state and a turn towards a revitalized sense of Indigenous identity” (Mills, 2018, p. 140). The second perspective towards resurgence, is expressed in the belief that “despite all injustice, our profound interdependence means … improving our relationship based on a strict us-them (i.e. settler-Indigenous) divide must fail” (Mills, 2018, p. 141). The distinction between the two positions is often presented in a simplified form as either a ‘turning inward’ (towards realizing resurgence within the Indigenous community and nation itself) or a ‘turning outward’ (working toward restoring more positive relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people). Regardless of the choice as to resurgence: whether to turn toward and work with non-Indigenous partners, or to turn away with an inward orientation, or alternately some combination of both approaches, there will be challenges. However, while resurgence will be determined by Indigenous communities, a 404
collaborative effort to develop a new collective story that allows for both Indigenous and non-
Indigenous peoples to move towards reconciliation will require ongoing dialogue and action.
The TRC offered a compelling vision where “reconciliation must become a way of life
… [for] reconciliation begins with each and every one of us” (TRC Final Report v6, 2015, pp.
20-21). While this research has highlighted how inclusion of Indigenous and legal perspectives can contribute greater depth and contextual understanding to the study of the traumatic past, it is also critical to note both are closely associated to reconciliation. Reconciliation based on mutual respect and recognition would find a solid constitutional foundation if “the traditional and contemporary place of Indigenous law in this country [is recognized] alongside the common law and civil law … [for this] is crucial to creating a healthier and more accurate conception of
Canada’s broader constitutional order” (Burrows, 2010, pp.15-16). Nonetheless, while large scale initiatives of government and educational institutions are necessary, systemic changes and the courts support for reconciliation will not be sufficient without widespread support of the populace, because:
State-driven processes … can never create or replace the importance of resurgence
and reconciliation in the hearts, minds and actions of people living in more local
contexts. Law is at its strongest when it is internalized and becomes part of our
everyday thinking and practice. (Burrows, 2018, p. 66)
This analysis resonates with the message of Dwayne Donald that a new ‘creation story’ for the nation is required because:
405
The beliefs that citizens hold regarding the genesis of their nation-state and the
stories that they have been told about the birth of their country have a significant
impact on the institutional, political and cultural character of the county, and the
preoccupations of the people. (Donald, 2012, p. 41)
Asking an entire nation to revisit the traumatic past and to re-envision the future is an incredibly challenging educational endeavour. The TRC and the subsequent CMEC commitment, the nexus event for this research project, were crucial beginnings in the creation of a new story together.
9.8 Conclusion
Forgetting is dangerous. Oblivion of the past “would deprive ourselves of one dimension, the dimension of depth in human existence. For memory and depth are the same, or rather, depth cannot be reached by man (sic) except through remembrance” (Arendt, 2006, p. 94). Memory is the very groundwork that enables us to live together to build, preserve, and care for a world that can survive us and remain a place fit for those who come after us (Arendt, 2006, p. 95). Yet when memory work involves studying the traumatic past, educative efforts become complicated and challenging. The overarching purpose in teaching the traumatic past, regardless of the immediate rationale espoused, is not simply ‘transmissive outcomes’ but also ‘transformative outcomes’—the changing of lives (Mayerson, 2018). Through such study students become better equipped with the knowledge, the requisite mind-set and the ability to move forward with reconciliation efforts. Because reconciliation in the context is a Canadian problem rather than solely an Indigenous issue, it is clear from the research that we need to improve relationships by sharing stories and beginning the creation a new collective story. The TRC Reports (2015) stressed the vital role of education and as the former TRC Chair, Justice Sinclair stated: “It is 406
precisely because education was the primary tool of oppression of Aboriginal people, and miseducation of all Canadians, that we have concluded that education holds the key to reconciliation” (Sinclair, 2014, p. 7). Further research is required to explore specific approaches to both the educational experience and the design of curricula in order to realize the potential of studying the traumatic past. The overall theme of my research is that difficult knowledge needs to be recognized first, and foremost, as an opportunity for transformative self-formulation. To enable such study, an educator must think carefully about the rationale(s) for such study, based on a thorough appreciation of the challenges, as well as the aims, of studying the traumatic past.
Similarly, including Indian residential school history in the curriculum requires a thoughtful articulation of the educational rationale because engaging in difficult knowledge has a powerful impact on students and their personal and educational journey. In education “we have an unprecedented opportunity to impart knowledge in a way that can make a difference. Doing so may yet save a future generation from the scourge of genocide” (Mayerson, 2018, pp. 158-159).
The study of the traumatic past is often justified by sentiments such as, ‘Never forget!’ and
‘Never again!’ With respect to the study of the history of Indian residential schools, ‘Never forget!’ requires hearing the stories of Survivors and remembering the victims. ‘Never again!’ means engaging with this subject matter of our traumatic past, in a way that fosters our personal resolve to address current inequities and to prevent future harms. This commitment may be strengthened by acquiring a better understanding of our nation’s genocidal past. In this way we can become active agents in reconciliation efforts. Teaching Indian residential school history, while critical, is only a tentative ‘first step’ step towards reconciliation. Students must also appreciate that there are essentially three equal orders of government in Canada—federal; provincial; and Aboriginal (Indigenous) or Treaty rights (Manuel & Derrickson, 2017, p. 96) and 407
this establishes an ongoing obligation, and personal responsibilities as citizens to uphold Treaty relationships and to address existing land claims.
Following the release of the TRC’s 94 Calls to Action in June 2015, educational institutions and educators across Canada began to make conscious efforts to include Indigenous voices and to create new curricula and adopt teaching principles and practices that recognized and included Indigenous ways of knowing (Markides, 2018, xvii). These efforts are all vital as they help to remedy the historic invisibility of Indigenous People. It is also necessary to work on restoring damaged relationships through understanding the harms that have been perpetuated by colonialism and the failures of Canadians to date to fulfil their responsibilities under Treaty relationships:
They need to learn about why Aboriginal leaders and Elders still fight so hard to
defend those Treaties, what these agreements represent to them, and why they
have been ignored by European settlers or governments … and what the settler
government’s political and legal obligations are in those areas where Treaties
were never negotiated. They need to learn why so many of these issues are
ongoing. (TRC Final Report, 2015 v1, pp. 235-236)
Re-visiting and repairing Treaty relationships is essential, and mutual respect is the heart of relationship and reconciliation. Thus, the education system must aim to teach all children—
Indigenous and non-Indigenous—"how to speak respectfully to, and about, each other in the future. Reconciliation is all about respect” (TRC Final Report, 2015 v1, p. 236). While the path forward is not prescriptive, if there is any requirement, it is the commitment to take actual steps toward reconciliation by acknowledging our mutual responsibilities as Treaty people. The underlying theme of this thesis is relationships: historical, contemporary and future because, “in 408
order to form healthier and more positive relationships into the future, there needs to be dialogue between all peoples living on these lands” (Vowel, 2016, p.14). One key message when selecting a rationale for the study of the traumatic past is learning that the Western values of individualism and a rights-based understanding are not in alignment with an Indigenous worldview where life is embedded in an organic and dynamic interconnectedness with others – other human beings, nature and the cosmos (Kanu, 2012, p. 207). Non-Indigenous people are often profoundly disconnected in their relations not only with Indigenous People but also with ‘all our relatives.’
Adding new curriculum content may assist, although this alone will not be sufficient. Starting with an understanding one’s rationale for studying the traumatic past and then connecting to
Indigenous People in our local community will help support the creation of a common vision:
We want to move forward, but we think the only way to move forward is to have
a vision, together, about what the future looks like. That won’t happen unless we
have dialogue and new understandings between us, as well, as the commitment to
move forward in a way that is inclusive and collaborative, just and equal. We’re
going to move forward, it’s going to happen, but it’s going to take a lot of work
and a lot of people being committed. (Joseph, In Carr, 2013, p. 29)
Honouring and learning from the past, from those who came before us, makes it possible to
‘wayfind’—to locate our bearings in the often times dystopic present: “Moving forward requires a look back while charting a new path into unknown territory and rebuilding relationships”
(Chabot, 2018, p. 23). The TRC Calls to Action, 2015 provide a framework with positive steps forward so that present actions, illuminated by an understanding of the past will shed light on a path toward a mutually desired future.
409
Why study the traumatic past? My research question connects the value of such study to the underlying curriculum question: What knowledge is of most worth? The value of this research to education, particularly the focus on the underlying rationales for studying the traumatic past, is exploratory and draws upon numerous academic, philosophical, contemporary and artistic sources, creating a métissage. This approach of métissage was purposeful and reflects my own interactions with Elders, and guidance of Indigenous educational practices as set out by Reilly:
My experience with Indigenous elders is that they almost never say to a person
“you should do this” or “you must do that.” Rather they will say “this is my
experience, and this is how I see it.” They leave it to their listener to take
whatever lesson they will take. I have found this (to be a) gentle way of teaching.
(Reilly, 2019, p. 3)
I offer this thesis to those who may find it helpful and in thanks to all who have taught me. In the words of Thomas King (2003), for all Canadians, and particularly educators and their students, live with the knowledge of the findings and the way forward as set out in the TRC Reports.
Having heard the Survivor stories, “just don’t say in the years to come that you would have lived your life differently if only you had heard this story. You’ve heard it now.” (King, 2003, 167).
Gratitude is owed to all TRC Survivors who shared the gift of their life stories so that Canadians can begin to understand the horrors of this nation’s colonial history. Educators now face the challenging responsibility, in light of the TRC legacy, to choose how to engage with the traumatic past. Such engagement requires choices, including conscious decisions as to the rationale(s) that will guide the study of the traumatic past—the history of Indian residential schools. With a nod to Thomas King: We have heard the story. Now we have to choose how to live our lives differently. 410
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Reference: Re. Same Sex Marriage, 2004 SCC 79; [2004] 3 SCR 698 accessed at https://www.canlii.org/en/ca/scc/doc/2004/2004scc79/2004scc79.pdf
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There is no future without memory. Without rooting and without memory, people … are just shipwrecked Manuel António Pina 469