Dancing on Our Turtle's Back

by Leanne Simpson

  Although I have been thinking about resistance for my entire adult life, it was not until I read Taiaiake Alfred’s Peace, Power and Righteousness: An Indigenous Manifesto and then Wasáse: Indigenous Pathways of Action and Freedom, that I began to think about resurgence. Alfred’s seminal works immediately spoke to my (o)debwewin, literally the sound my heart makes,[17] or “truth,” because at the core of his work, he challenges us to reclaim the Indigenous contexts (knowledge, interpretations, values, ethics, processes) for our political cultures. In doing so, he refocuses our work from trying to transform the colonial outside into a flourishment of the Indigenous inside. We need to rebuild our culturally inherent philosophical contexts for governance, education, healthcare, and economy. We need to be able to articulate in a clear manner our visions for the future, for living as Indigenous Peoples in contemporary times. To do so, we need to engage in Indigenous processes, since according to our traditions, the processes of engagement highly influence the outcome of the engagement itself. We need to do this on our own terms, without the sanction, permission or engagement of the state, western theory or the opinions of Canadians. In essence, we need to not just figure out who we are; we need to re-establish the processes by which we live who we are within the current context we find ourselves. We do not need funding to do this. We do not need a friendly colonial political climate to do this. We do not need opportunity to do this. We need our Elders, our languages, and our lands, along with vision, intent, commitment, community and ultimately, action. We must move ourselves beyond resistance and survival, to flourishment and mino bimaadiziwin.[18] If this approach does nothing else to shift the current state of affairs—and I believe it will—it will ground our peoples in their own cultures and teachings that provide the ultimate antidote to colonialism, which I believe is what Indigenous intellectuals and theorists[19] have been encouraging us to do all along. In this book, I am interested in exploring these transformative contexts from within my own Nishnaabeg culture. Transforming ourselves, our communities and our nations is ultimately the first step in transforming our relationship with the state.

  Building diverse, nation-culture-based resurgences means significantly re-investing in our own ways of being: regenerating our political and intellectual traditions; articulating and living our legal systems; language learning; ceremonial and spiritual pursuits; creating and using our artistic and performance-based traditions. All of these require us—as individuals and collectives—to diagnose, interrogate and eviscerate the insidious nature of conquest, empire, and imperial thought in every aspect of our lives. It requires us to reclaim the very best practices of our traditional cultures, knowledge systems and lifeways in the dynamic, fluid, compassionate, respectful context within which they were originally generated. A critical level of anti-colonial interrogation is required in order for us to be able to see the extraordinarily political nature of Nishnaabeg thought.

  Ethically, it is my emphatic belief that the land, reflected in Nishnaabeg thought and philosophy, compels us towards resurgence in virtually every aspect. Walking through the bush last spring with my children, the visual landscape reminded me of this. We saw Lady Slippers, and I was reminded of our name for the flower and the story that goes with it,[20] and then moss, and then butterflies.[21] Then we saw a woodpecker[22] and I thought of a similar story. Finally, we walked through a birch stand and I thought of Nanabush, Niimkiig and birch bark.[23] Our Nishnaabeg landscape flourishes with our stories of resistance and resurgence, yet through colonial eyes, the stories are interpreted as quaint anecdotes with “rules” of engagement and consequence. Interpreted within our cultural web of non-authoritarian leadership, non-hierarchical ways of being, non-interference and non-essentialism,[24] the stories explain the resistance of my Ancestors and the seeds of resurgence they so carefully saved and planted. So I could then assume my responsibility as a Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg to care take of their garden, eventually passing those responsibilities on to my grandchildren. This is the purpose of this book.

  While it is my firm belief that there is much work to be done within our nations in terms of building resurgence—both political and cultural—within a nation-based framework, I don’t believe this is all we need to do. According to our Seven Fires Prophecy, much work needs to be done to decolonize the state, Indigenous-state relations and Canada in order for the Eighth Fire to be lit.[25] At this point, to me, it seems rather futile to be engaged in scholarly and political processes, trying to shift these relationships when there is no evidence there exists the political will to do so on the part of the Canadian state. There is no opportunity; and putting our energies into demanding that the state recognize us seems depressing, futile and a waste of energy, given the condition of our communities. I also believe Nishnaabeg philosophy propels us to focus on ourselves in terms of transformation. However, I do not wish to criticize the work of Indigenous academics who chose to engage, interrogate and struggle with the dominant white paper liberalism that plagues Indigenous-state relations in Canada. The seminal works of many of my colleagues are at their core aimed at decolonizing the Canadian state, political systems and legal system in order to demand political relationships based on recognized Indigenous nations and alternatives to rights-based approaches. While this body of work searches for solutions within federalism that do not subsume Indigenous self-determination, agency and sovereignty, there is also important work to be done within our nations. This is the work that is the focus of this book, because these are the things that I am constantly thinking about, talking about, and asking Elders about. My approach to this work is not rooted solely in the intellectual; it is rooted in my spiritual and emotional life, as well as my body; and it is explored through my Nishnaabeg name, my clan, my Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg roots and my own individual being. It is not better or worse than any other Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg’s contribution. It is simply a reflection of my own current ideas and thinking and is not meant to reflect the views of my broader nation, or to be comprehensive in any manner.

  In my own life, I have been taught by a handful of Elders that embody Nishnaabeg thought in a way that I worry we are losing. These Elders are fluent language speakers. They embody gentleness and kindness. And what struck me immediately—and continues to do so twenty years later—is that they rejected rigidity and fundamentalism as colonial thinking. Their ways of being in the world and their interpretations of our teachings were reflective of a philosophical state, a set of values and ethics and a way of being in the world where they didn’t feel the need to employ exclusionary practices, authoritarian power and hierarchy. They “protected” their interpretations by embodying them and by living them. They “resisted” colonialism by living within Nishnaabeg contexts. When I moved back into the southeastern regions of my territory, I was immediately struck by moralistic judgment, rules to constrict and control social behaviours within my community, and a more formalized hierarchy to restrict access to knowledge, which to me is reminiscent of colonial thought and religious fundamentalism.[26] This was not my understanding or interpretation of my own cultural teachings. I was taught that individual Nishnaabe had the responsibility of interpreting the teachings for themselves within a broader shared collective set of values that placed great importance on self-actualization, the suspension of judgment, fluidity, emergence, careful deliberation and an embodied respect for diversity.

  There exists very little in the academic literature conceptualizing and exploring resistance and resurgence from within Indigenous thought.[27] My perspective throughout this book is that the process of resurgence must be Indigenous at its core in order to reclaim and re-politicize the context and the nature of Nishnaabeg thought. Nishnaabeg thought was designed and conceptualized to perpetuate the holistic well being of Nishnaabeg people through a series of cultural and political manifestations, including government, education, and restorative justice that promoted mino bimaadiziwin. Our ways of being promoted the good life or continuous rebirth at every turn: in t
he face of political unrest, “natural disasters” and even genocide. Nishnaabeg thought provides us with the impetus, the ethical responsibility, the strategies and the plan of action for resurgence. We have a responsibility to the coming generations to maintain that resurgence in the midst of an all-out colonial attack and in the more insidious de-centralized post-colonial-colonialism.[28] Nishnaabeg thought was not meant to promote assimilation or normalization within a colonial context. It was not meant to be reduced and relegated to a decorative window dressing in western scholarship.

  Aanji Maajitaawin, the Art of Starting Over[29]

  I am writing this at a time when Canada is busy talking about “reconciliation” at every turn, while at the same time using the Indian Act to enforce a band council “government” against the will of the Algonquins of Barriere Lake. “Reconciliation” is being promoted by the federal government as a “new” way for Canada to relate to Indigenous Peoples, and it isn’t just government officials that are promoting the idea. I have heard heads of universities talk about reconciliation; I have read journalist’s op-ed pieces; I have heard mayors talk about reconciliation as they open local Aboriginal events. But the idea of reconciliation is not new. Indigenous Peoples attempted to reconcile our differences in countless treaty negotiations, which categorically have not produced the kinds of relationships Indigenous Peoples intended. I wonder how we can reconcile when the majority of Canadians do not understand the historic or contemporary injustice of dispossession and occupation, particularly when the state has expressed its unwillingness to make any adjustments to the unjust relationship. Haudenosaunee scholar and orator Dan Longboat recently reminded me of this, when he said that treaties are not just for governments, they are for the citizens as well.[30] The people also have to act in a manner that is consistent with the relationships set out in the treaty negotiation process. If Canadians do not fully understand and embody the idea of reconciliation, is this a step forward? It reminds me of an abusive relationship where one person is being abused physically, emotionally, spiritually and mentally. She wants out of the relationship, but instead of supporting her, we are all gathered around the abuser, because he wants to “reconcile.” But he doesn’t want to take responsibility. He doesn’t want to change. In fact, all through the process he continues to physically, emotionally, spiritually and mentally abuse his partner. He just wants to say sorry so he can feel less guilty about his behaviour. He just wants to adjust the ways he is abusing; he doesn’t want to stop the abuse. Collectively, what are the implications of participating in reconciliation processes when there is an overwhelming body of evidence that in action, the Canadian state does not want to take responsibility and stop the abuse? What are the consequences for Indigenous Peoples of participating in a process that attempts to absolve Canada of past wrong doings, while they continue to engage with our nations in a less than honourable way?

  Those that chose to participate in reconciliation processes do so believing that participation could potentially bring more positive change than non-participation. They may be right. But our eyes need to be wide open if we are entering this process. As reconciliation has become institutionalized,[31] I worry our participation will benefit the state in an asymmetrical fashion, by attempting to neutralize the legitimacy of Indigenous resistance. If reconciliation is focused only 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 that reconciliation will “level the playing field” in the eyes of Canadians. In the eyes of liberalism, the historical “wrong” has now been “righted” and further transformation is not needed, since the historic situation has been remedied. I worry the historical context for contemporary Indigenous-state contention becomes co-opted in this model, because the perception of most Canadians is that post-reconciliation, Indigenous Peoples no longer have a legitimate source of contention.[32] I also worry that institutionalization of a narrowly defined “reconciliation” subjugates treaty and nation-based participation by locking our Elders—the ones that suffered the most directly at the hands of the residential school system—in a position of victimhood. Of course, they are anything but victims. They are our strongest visionaries and they inspire us to vision alternative futures. Are we participating in a process that allows the state to co-opt the individual and collective pain and suffering of our people, while also criminalizing the inter-generational impacts of residential schools and ignoring the larger neo-assimilation project to which our children are now subjected?

  For reconciliation to be meaningful to Indigenous Peoples and for it to be a decolonizing force, it must be interpreted broadly. To me, reconciliation must be grounded in cultural generation and political resurgence. It must support Indigenous nations in regenerating our languages, our oral cultures, our traditions of governance and everything else residential schools attacked and attempted to obliterate.[33] Reconciliation must move beyond individual abuse to come to mean a collective re-balancing of the playing field. This idea is captured in the Nishnaabeg concept Aanji Maajitaawin: to start over, the art of starting over, to regenerate. Reconciliation is a process of regeneration that will take many years to accomplish. We have to regenerate our languages so we have communities of fluent speakers. We have to regenerate the conditions that produce leaders and political systems based on our collective Nishnaabeg values, political processes and philosophies. Canada must engage in a decolonization project and a re-education project that would enable its government and its citizens to engage with Indigenous Peoples in a just and honourable way in the future.

  From a Nishnaabeg theoretical and legal perspective, regeneration or restoration is at the core of re-balancing relationships. Nishnaabeg legal systems are, at their core, restorative. Restorative processes rely upon the abuser taking full responsibility for his/her actions in a collective setting, amongst the person s/he violated, and amongst the people both the perpetrator and the survivor hold responsibilities to—be that their extended family, clan, or community. In the case of state-perpetuated residential schools, the tables would be turned in a Nishnaabeg legal system. The survivors would have agency, decision-making power, and the power to decide restorative measures. In the case of the Community Holistic Circles of Healing in Hollow Water First Nation,[34] the abuser must take responsibility for his or her actions and is required to sit in a circle of community Elders, the extended family of the survivor, and his or her extended family (who are there to support him or her through this process. Everyone participating in the circle has a chance to speak or to share their thoughts, feelings and perspectives. The survivor has the choice to share whatever he or she feels most appropriate. Imagine government officials, church officials, nuns, priests and teachers from a particular residential school in a circle with the people that had survived their sexual, physical, emotional and spiritual abuse. This is a fundamentally different power relationship between perpetrators of violence and survivors of that violence, where the abusers must face the full impact of their actions. Reconciliation then becomes a process embodied by both the survivor and the perpetrator. And part of restoration means that the community maintains the authority to make that individual accountable for future wrongs. The interrogation is focused on the perpetrator of the violence, not on the survivors. The responsibility and the authority for restoration are in the agency of the survivors, not the perpetrators themselves. The authority to hold the state accountable then rests with Indigenous nations, not the liberal state.[35]

  Restorative models work in Nishnaabeg communities because ethically taking responsibility for one’s actions is paramount in the healing or restoration process; as well, the purpose of these models in the long term is the rehabilitation and restoration of all of those individuals back into mino bimaadiziwin. These models put the hens in charge of the hen house and the fox under interrogation. If it is truly time to talk “reconciliation,” then how we reconcile is critically imp
ortant. I can see no evidence whatsoever that there exists a political will on the part of the state to do anything other than neutralize Indigenous resistance, so as to not impinge upon the convenience of the settler-Canadians. The only way to not be co-opted is to use our own legal and political processes to bring about justice.

  In the words of Dene scholar Glen Coulthard, our culturally inherent political theory provides Indigenous Peoples with mechanisms for “critically revaluating, reconstructing and redeploying culture and tradition in ways that seek to prefigure, alongside those with similar ethical commitments, a radical alternative to the structural and psycho-affective facets of colonial domination.”[36] Our liberatory and inherent theories of resurgence also do not tell us to persistently search through the web of colonial traps for settler political recognition and to gleefully accept white paper liberalism designed to redistribute resources and rights, placating the guilt of settler Canadians and neutralizing Indigenous resistance. Our inherent theories of resurgence are transformative and revolutionary. They are meant to propel and maintain social, cultural and political transformative movement through the worst forms of political genocide; and I think it is important to understand them as such.

  While there are Indigenous scholars, leaders and activists engaged in broadening the state’s conceptualization of reconciliation in order to re-align it with the political goals of Indigenous Peoples, again, I worry about emphasis. This cannot become the bulk of our work or take up the bulk of our resources. Perhaps good things will come out of this process, particularly for residential school survivors. Perhaps our communities will be able to use something from this “reconciliation process” to meet some of their goals, but we need to enter into this carefully and with critical eyes that are guided by the whole picture.