Dancing on Our Turtle's Back
Page 14
If it was common for communities to have more than one leader, then within our political traditions we should have ways of recognizing, respecting, and reconciling different leaders within our communities. We just need to look.
When leadership is defined as simple statesmen or in terms of international politics, we are mirroring western styles of leadership rather than honouring our own traditions. Leadership within the Nishnaabeg nation and within our clans was diffused, shared, and emergent arising out of need. It ensured egalitarian social organization to a greater degree than the hierarchy that emerges when certain clans or certain individuals are placed in permanent positions of leadership and no other kinds of leaders or leadership are recognized.
Fortunately, I see this kind of traditional leadership alive and well in both urban and reserve-based Nishnaabeg communities. In my own urban community, leaders emerge and then divest themselves of that responsibility. Leaders emerge to bring about artistic and creative festivals, to start language nests, to host youth groups and women’s groups, to form midwifery collectives and breastfeeding support groups, to initiate cultural immersion schools, to hold medicine camps training people to become healers. In the reserve communities I work with, I see Elders councils taking on leadership roles around the protection of land; I see individuals emerging as leaders against environmental contamination and deforestation; I see women organizing to improve the health and well-being of their children’s lives, sometimes with the support of Indian Act administrations and sometimes without. I see a variety of leaders, sacrificing and organizing for their people based on their individual gifts and responsibilities, outside, and even in rare cases, from inside of the Indian Act system of governance. I also see traditional political leaders destabilizing that system as well. Our system of governance has not been lost; it needs attention and support, but it is not lost. Too many of us have lost the ability to see and recognize what needs to be done to strengthen it.
While many Nishnaabemowin speakers use the word Ogimaa, or in my dialect Gimaa, to denote leadership, Gdigaa Migizi uses another term. Eniigaanzidmeans “the one to go first,” “the first to face the future,” “the first to face danger,” and also “the one that should be acting as protector.”[3] He explained this to me as “one who leads with reluctance” and it is done out of a sense of responsibility and sacrifice, rather than desire for esteem and accolades. Eniigaanzid embodies the concepts of Aanjigone and Naakgonige. Eniigaanzid is not an authoritarian style of leadership based on unilateral decision making, coercion and hierarchy. It is a style of leadership based on humility, emergence, collectivity in decision making, sharing of the work and in action, and listening. Examples of these kinds of leaders in modern society are hard to find because they are counter to nearly all of the narratives on leadership our children are exposed to, as well as those leadership styles we mirror and model in our daily lives.
Aabawaadiziiwin
For Indigenous Peoples, our children learn about governance, power, decision making and our political cultures first and foremost in our families. The family is the microcosm for the nation. Parents model leadership. When we model coercion, hierarchy and authoritarian power we produced political leaders who embody those values. If we want to create leaders of resurgence based on a different set of values and a different conceptualization of leadership, then we had better model that to our children from the very beginning. This kind of leadership needs to be modeled to our children so they can begin to embody it from a young age. Our current education institutions have no capacity to meet this need. Aabawaadiziwin is a word that means togetherness, or the art of being together; and it means that we must practice good relationships with all living beings around us.[4] This begins in our families and with our children.
The Four Hills of Life
Nishnaabeg Elders have a series of teachings regarding the Four Stages of Life: babies and children, youth, adults, and Elders. As we walk through each stage of life, we face a series of challenges, making it difficult to climb up the hill. Many do not make it to the top.[5] For those who do make it, they walk down the other side to face the next hill of life. Sometimes this is explained as the Seven Stages of Life: the good life (abinoojiiyensag, babies), the fast life (kwezensag miinwaa gwiizensag, little girls and boys), the wandering life (oshkinaweg miinwaa oshkiniigikweg, adolescent boys and girls), the three adult stages of truth, planning and doing (ininiwag, men and miinwaa ikwewag, women), and the Elder life (Nokomis miinwaa Mishomis,Grandmother and Grandfather).[6] In the pre-colonial Nishnaabeg nation, children were highly respected people, valued for their insights, their humour, and their contributions to families and communities at each stage of their lives. Children were seen as Gifts, and parenting was an honour. Coming from the spirit-world at birth, children were closer to that world than their adult counterparts, and were therefore considered to have greater spiritual power—a kind of power highly respected amongst the Nishnaabeg. Adults had a lot to learn from these small teachers. Parenting strategies were developed with these core beliefs in mind, along with basic ethics regarding relationships and behaviour, while also considering the kinds of adults and communities Nishnaabeg people wanted to create and live in. Nishnaabeg families and communities were of critical importance in supporting parents in what is described as a “prolonged” attachment phase. They also had a part in gently guiding children to respect the values, core philosophies, ethics and boundaries of the society.[7] This kind of environment created highly autonomous individuals that were also community-minded. Interdependence was a core value of many pre-colonial Indigenous societies.[8] It also created leaders that were able to build consensus by listening to the people, leaders who were full of humility, responsibility and respect, leaders who were willing to sacrifice on a personal level for the betterment of the nation.[9] It was a kind of leadership based on shared, not absolute power, grounded in an authentic power rather than an authoritarian one; and it created communities that were profoundly less authoritarian, less coercive and less hierarchical than their European counterparts.[10]
Colonizers mistakenly interpreted (and continue to interpret) Nishnaabeg parenting philosophies as “a lack of parenting” because of the absence of punishment, coercion, manipulation, criticism, authoritarian power, and hierarchy. Champlain first observed, “These children are extremely spoiled, as a result of not being punished, and are of so perverse a nature that they strike their fathers and mothers, which is a sort of curse that God sends them.”[11] He made similar well-known criticisms of Nishnaabeg governance and gender relations.[12] Through the lens of racism and Eurocentrism, the colonizers failed to recognize that Nishnaabeg parenting was rooted in attachment, following children through their stages of development, with empathy, patience, unconditional love, mutual respect, and freedom of choice.[13] These are many of the same values that are continually reflected in broader Nishnaabeg society, particularly in gender relations, diplomacy and the political culture of the pre-colonial Nishnaabeg nation.
Indigenous scholars concerned with decolonizing and Indigenous resurgence have often criticized Aboriginal leadership for a lack of commitment to these goals and adherence to the values and ethics of Indigenous political cultures.[14] In Wasáse, Taiaiake Alfred discusses the need for “regenerating our people so that we can support traditional government models. Regretfully, the levels of participation in social and political life, the physical fitness, and the cultural skills these models require are far beyond our weakened and dispirited people right now.”[15] Resurgence is about addressing this weakened and dispirited state we find ourselves in; and one way to address this is in the way we parent our children. Nurturing children following Nishnaabeg ways produced a very different kind of family, society and nation. This is evident in the kinds of governance Indigenous Peoples engaged in, the kind of leaders our nations produced, and the kinds of political cultures we nurtured. It is my understanding that pre-colonial Nishnaabeg leadership was essentially, as Ladner
writes, the Blackfoot “non-hierarchical, non-coercive and non-authoritarian.”[16] Leadership was an institution that was shared amongst those with certain expertise and leaders emerged and dissolved as issues emerged and were resolved. It was the responsibility of leaders not to assert their will onto the people, but to co-operatively generate consensus.[17] Leadership skills were passed down to younger generations through the Clan responsible for this task.[18] Individuals led on the basis of their Gifts, and their commitment to their people. Relationships were of the utmost importance. “Powerful” leaders adhered to the Kokum Dibaajimowinan and influenced the people in a non-authoritarian fashion.
Kokum Dibaajimowinan
Recall the Seven Grandfather Teachings from Chapter Four. These teachings include Aakde’ewin, the art of having courage; Debwewin, the art of truth or sincerity; Mnaadendiwin, the art of having respect; Zaagidewin, the art of love or loving; Gwekwaadiziwin, the art of being honest; Nbwaakawin, the art of wisdom; and Dbadendiziwin, the art of humility. When I asked Gdigaa Migizi what our Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg Elders called the Seven Grandfather Teachings in our territory, he immediately answered, “Kokum Dibaajimowinan,” Grandmother teachings.[19]
One fall afternoon I asked him to share with me his understanding of these words. We began with Aakde’ewin,[20] which is commonly translated as “courage” or the “art of being brave.” Gdigaa Migizi explained that this means “strong hearted,” not in a physical sense, but in relation to Debwewin. Aakde’yin might be used to describe the weakest person physically, but this kind of strength comes from knowing who one is, a grounding in self-knowledge. So Aakde’yin might describe the one that is given strength from family, stories, teachings. Because of this self-knowledge, one who has Aakde’yin is without fear of a foe or the unknown, because he or she is confident in who he or she is and where he or she is going. Of course, this “confidence” is exercised within the context of tremendous humility.
In speaking to Debwewin, the art of truth, or the “sound of the heart,” Gdigaa Migizi stressed speaking from the heart, and that his understanding of Debwewin was not physical, but involved the idea that “being a good person was being a person whose word you could trust.” He explained that Kokum Dibaajimowinan were often explained by describing a specific attribute in a person; that is, the teachings were personalized. So the old people would describe the teachings using someone who embodied the teachings as an example.
Mnaadendiwin is often translated as “respect” or the “art of respect,” but Gdigaa Migizi explained that this means that we are to deeply cherish each other. We are to work towards seeing each other and cherishing each other for who we are, and in doing so, we become one. We become a family of deeply cherished individuals of one mind. This teaching flows into Aanjigone in that we are to be very slow to judge one another, very careful with our words and actions to not bring those negative attributes back onto ourselves and our families.
For Zaagidewin, commonly translated as “love,” Gdigaa Migizi spoke of an unconditional love, similar to the qualities expressed in Gzhwe. He spoke of one bearing their soul and heart nakedly, expressing a complete vulnerability, reminding me of a newborn baby. When one comes to another bearing his or her soul, completely trusting that the other person will be non-judgmental, caring and gentle, he or she comes expecting acceptance, gentleness, kindness and nurturing. In the context of Kokum Dibaajimowinan, this is what is meant by “love.”
Gwekwaadiziwin is often used to describe one that lives a “straight” life, an honest life or the “art of being honest.” Gdigaa Migizi instead used the term Kaazhaadizi and explained it as a person that is all of the above—a good person with peace of mind and both feet on the ground. A person with Kaazhaadizi embodies love, is totally giving, and openly accepts another person. Shirley Williams understood this word in a similar way, and defined it as “to be kind.”[21]
One way that gentleness, kindness and humility are expressed in our intellectual pursuits is through the concept of Nbwaakawin,[22] commonly translated as knowledge. According to Shirley Williams, it means “the art of kindness in knowledge.” Shirley explained to me that Nbwaakawin means to put others before one’s own self. In other words, you can think about yourself after you have thought about others, so that even though you might have knowledge or know about a particular concept, you cannot always show what you know. In a sense, Nbwaakawin keeps ego in check (which is the third level of consciousness in Nishnaabeg thought). This concept refers to the highest form of wisdom and it cautions people to be careful with that wisdom and use it in an appropriate way. If one follows Nbwaakawin, one will know how to handle this kind of wisdom and also remain in a humble state.[23] This is performed by Elders in Nishnaabeg communities and is one of the concepts that often confuses western experts. The expression of tremendous humility around knowledge and knowing is something that authentic Elders do constantly. This concept is an important reminder for leaders, parents and teachers of all kinds.
Dbadendiziwin[24] is the art of being humble or humility, to never look upon oneself as being better than anyone else. It also means to look after or maintain oneself. To me, this means that in order to keep that ego in check, we have to look after our spiritual, emotional, physical and intellectual selves in order to maintain balance.
As a Nishnaabeg mother, I see it as a core responsibility of mine to ensure my children are grounded in Nishnaabeg values and ethics as best I can. This includes Kokum Dibaajimowinan, while also having the skills to critically engage the colonial. As a Nishnaabeg mother, I understand that I have a responsibility to decolonize my own mothering skills to create space within my family for Nishnaabeg philosophies to flourish. I am not suggesting we blindly adopt all pre-colonial Indigenous parenting techniques.[25] There was a great diversity amongst Indigenous Peoples in the kinds of childrearing practices they employed,[26] and not all of the pre-colonial techniques are acceptable or desirable in contemporary times. Our children live in a very different world than their pre-colonial counterparts, and they have to be able to live and function in (at least) two worlds, so complete immersion into pre-colonial parenting traditions is not only impossible, but it is also not desirable. Further, they need to be able to think and act critically, anti-colonially and honourably from an Indigenous perspective. They are the ones that will carry on our responsibility in building resurgence.
Decolonizing parenting techniques means figuring out the kinds of citizens we want to create, the kinds of communities we want to live in, and the kinds of leaders we want to create, then tailoring our parenting and our schooling to meet the needs of our nations. Residential schools, the colonial child welfare system, dominant interpretations of Christianity and mandatory colonial schooling have not allowed for our parenting styles to evolve to meet the needs of modern Indigenous communities; similarly, mainstream parenting styles are not enough to create leaders and citizens grounded in Indigenous cultural and political traditions that are able to confront and lead people through the many facets of colonialism. If we are truly interested in decolonizing, then we must critically evaluate how we are parenting and educating the next generation because it is one of the few areas of our lives we can assert a certain degree of control and it is critical to the decolonizing project. We must rethink how our great leaders of the past were made.
Leading by Following: The Seven Stages of Life
Parents are a child’s first and often most profound experience with leadership. For the Nishnaabeg, the first relationships a child experiences are critically important because they provide the model for all other relationships to follow. It is a common Nishnaabeg belief that if you are an authoritarian parent, you will create adults and leaders who are also authoritarian. Authoritarian parents create adults whose leadership skills revolve around absolute power.
A few years ago at Trent University’s Annual Elder and Traditional People’s gathering, I heard traditional teacher Sylvia Maracle talk about her understanding of the Sev
en Stages of Life.[27] She went through each stage of life, thoroughly inverting settler society’s view of children as empty vessels in need of control, instruction, boundaries and teaching. From her perspective, children have it right already; it is the adults that need to learn. This model is also profoundly non-hierarchical, as the Seven Stages of Life are presented as a circle.
In her discussion of the first stage, infancy, she talked about how infants teach their parents and extended family about love, the kind of love that is unconditional, based on sacrifice and putting the needs of others before oneself. Toddlers teach the importance of safe environments as they busily explore and learn about their environment. Children teach us, often humorously. about truth, unaware of the culturally constructed norms around the kinds of information shared publicly and the kinds not. Our youth remind us of teachings around rejection and establishing one’s own sense of self, important teachings that give way to young adults who are responsible for the “work of the nation.” Parents are firmly in the “planting stage” of life, sowing the seeds for the next generation, and nurturing those seedlings to adulthood. The primary responsibility of parents is that of provider; so during this life phase, contributions to the wider community and nation are kept to a minimum. This “paid parental leave,” associated in modern times with the highly “civilized” states of the world, was a cornerstone of pre-colonial Nishnaabeg parenting styles because Nishnaabeg people recognized that the quality of the parent-child relationship was the foundation of non-authoritarian parenting.