Editorial
January 3, 2003 - Nunavut’s top news stories
January 10, 2003 - Canada’s newest colony?
January 17, 2003 - An invitation to the dance
January 24, 2003 - Big city — small minds
Nunavut’s top news stories
If there was ever a year of contrast for Nunavut residents, it was 2002.
For those able to participate in some of the eastern Arctic’s magic moments, such as the 2002 Arctic Winter Games in Iqaluit in March, the general assembly of the Inuit Circumpolar Conference in Kuujjuaq in August, or the Queen’s visit to Nunavut in October, the memories will last a lifetime. Those three events surely rank among the high points of 2002, and ought to be candidates for anyone’s list of the top 10 stories of the year.
But for others, unfortunately, 2002 was a time of turmoil, loss, trauma and bitter disappointment, especially those who were victimized by mindless acts of fatal violence that erupted in several eastern Arctic communities, especially among young people. Unfortunately, stories of homicide must also rank among the top stories of the year.
For Nunavut residents who watched their legislative assembly carefully last year, 2002 produced at least three or four stories that revealed the legislature’s strengths and weaknesses, and whose consequences will surely be felt this year too.
Last March, Nunavummiut discovered how it’s possible for MLAs to use their behind-closed-doors caucus meetings to talk about things they don’t want the public to hear. Only because of a leak from a friendly source, Nunavut’s news media were able to tell the public about a $2.7-million pension enrichment plan that MLAs had discussed in caucus for nine months. Unfortunately, most MLAs paid little attention to the line of angry protestors who stood on the steps of the legislative assembly building on March 5 in Iqaluit oppose that plan.
But that story isn’t over. It’s safe to predict that after this fall’s territorial election, at least a dozen incumbent MLAs could be thrown out of their jobs. This will happen for a variety of reasons. Some will lose because of bizarre vote splits, others will lose because they’re incompetent and the voters know it, while others may be defeated by new and more attractive candidates.
So you can be sure that most of those defeated members will be lining up for either early pension payments, or for the $70,000 transition allowance that they also voted for themselves last year. Nunavummiut will not be amused.
Another safe prediction is that Bill 1, the Nunavut government’s proposed new Education Act, will either die on the order paper or be withdrawn before the election. In this case, Nunavummiut and their MLAs have been provided with a powerful lesson in how not to develop legislation and policy, and how not to conduct a consultation exercise. It remains to be seen whether the department of education has learned that lesson as well.
In contrast, the process that the government used to used to consult people about the new Wildlife Act in 2002 is a good example of the right way to do it. Because of that, the Wildlife Act will pass by the end of the year, and the government will have made a major step toward complying with Article 5 of the Nunavut Land Claims Agreement.
Nunavut residents also watched the Nunavut government continue their frustrating attempts to explain Nunavut’s legitimate needs to federal government officials. On a variety of issues that have enormous implications for Nunavut’s economy — including health care, infrastructure, fishing quotas and housing — Ottawa has given Nunavut the brush-off.
So it’s safe to predict that relations between Nunavut and the federal government, especially relations between Nunavut and Indian Affairs Minister Bob Nault, will continue to deteriorate in 2003. Since it’s unlikely that the prime minister will replace Nault with another MP, 2003 will bring more conflict between Nunavut and Ottawa.
The only potential bright spot in federal-territorial relations is the opportunity for a new deal on health-care funding offered by next month’s first ministers’ meeting. But we still don’t know how much of the Romanow report’s recommendations will be accepted as federal policy - especially the proposed $1.5-billion fund for rural and remote health care. So there’s every chance that this opportunity could degenerate into more frustration for Nunavut.
JB
Canada’s newest colony?
As we approach the end of Nunavut’s fourth year, it’s now obvious that the creation of Nunavut was a great victory — for the Government of Canada.
As to whether it was also a victory for the people of Nunavut, that’s still an open question.
But throughout 2002, the federal government has displayed a consistent attitude toward Nunavut, an attitude that in the absence of a coherent approach to northern development, amounts to a de facto policy made up of two key elements: calculated neglect, and thinly disguised neo-colonialism.
Ottawa’s real policy toward Nunavut — as evidenced by its actions, rather than its words — amounts to a policy of maximum political benefit for themselves — at minimum financial cost. In its management of the Nunavut project, which they inherited in 1993 from the Progressive Conservative government they replaced that year, the Liberal government has served its own interests far more effectively than it’s served ours.
The first element of Liberal policy, calculated neglect, has been obvious to all who care to look even before the date of Nunavut’s creation. This neglect was displayed at least as far back as 1996, when Ottawa committed only $150 million to pay all the one-time costs of creating Nunavut — despite at least two consultant’s studies showing that two to three times that much money was needed. Ottawa, and various members of the land-claim elite also manufactured the creation of the Nunavut Construction Company to build roughly half the office and staff-house infrastructure under a privatization scheme whose full financial impact on the Nunavut government is still unknown.
Since then, of course, Nunavut and Inuit leaders have reminded the federal government of its obligations to Inuit and to the people of Nunavut many times. They’ve talked about the disgraceful shortage of social housing, and the outbreak of killer diseases such as tuberculosis and RSV that are associated with it. They’ve talked about Nunavut’s dilapidated municipal infrastructure, and the unfairness of Ottawa’s per capita infrastructure funding formula. They’ve talked about Nunavut’s inability to get more than a small share of commercial fish quotas in adjacent waters. They’ve talked about Nunavut’s lack of transportation infrastructure, including roads and wharves. They’ve talked incessantly about Nunavut’s Third World health outcomes and our underfunded health-care system.
Invariably, the federal response is the same: Make do with what you have, because we know your needs better than you do.
But the neglect is obvious. Most Nunavut residents, especially Nunavut’s young, do not enjoy equality of opportunity with other Canadians. The things that governments create to ensure it barely exist in Nunavut.
Equality of opportunity is not produced by new flags, new acronyms, and endless gatherings of professional meeting-goers. It’s produced by good schools, accessible health care, adequate shelter, and a healthy mix of private- and government-driven economic activity. None of these things exist in Nunavut. Until they do, Nunavut’s young will be guaranteed a future of inequality in comparison with other Canadians.
The second element in Ottawa’s attitude toward Nunavut, neo-colonialism, is not so blatant.
But Indian Affairs Minister Bob Nault let us catch a glimpse of it last November, when he told a group of reporters that he believes Nunavut is "not ready" to handle a share of royalties from non-renewable resource development, and to handle the administration of mining, and oil and gas drilling.
In effect, Nault admitted that his government is content to see Nunavut become an economic colony of southern Canada. Without a resource revenue sharing agreement, mining development will do little to improve the Nunavut government’s nearly complete dependence on Ottawa. Profits from that development would flow south, and Ottawa, not Nunavut, would collect millions of dollars worth of royalties, or mining taxes, on such development.
Yes, it’s true that the Nunavut land claims agreement provides that a small amount of federal resource royalty revenue will flow to the Nunavut Trust. But it’s a pittance. Article 25, which sets out rules for resource royalty sharing, says government will give the Nunavut Trust 50 per cent of the first $2 million of resource royalties collected in any given year, and five per cent of royalties collected on amounts in excess of $2 million.
But there’s nothing for the government of Nunavut, the body that’s responsible for the things that actually produce equality of opportunity: education, health care, housing, and strong public services.
A resource revenue agreement could one day help pay for better schools and better health care in Nunavut. But when mining development starts up in the Kitikmeot and Kivalliq, Nunavummiut may get some minor spin-off benefits, such as some menial jobs and contracting opportunities. The Nunavut government, however, will be have been denied a tool that it could use to improve public services and build self-sufficiency.
As usual, whenever Nunavut shows any sign of lessening its dependence on Ottawa, at one day standing on its own feet, a federal politician jumps up to break our knee caps with a baseball bat. Welcome to Canada’s newest colony.
JB
An invitation to the dance
Should three Canadian aboriginal associations get seats at the table when Canada’s premiers sit down with Prime Minister Jean Chrétien on Feb. 4 in Ottawa to work out a new deal to renew the country’s health-care system?
That’s what the Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, the Métis National Council, and the Assembly of First Nations asked for in a letter to Chrétien last November. In a meeting with Anne McLellan, the federal health minister, they asked for the same thing.
In support of their position, the three organizations are able to make a strong constitutional argument.
Inuit, Métis and First Nations are all recognized as "Aboriginal Peoples" under the constitution. In the past, when Canada’s first ministers have sat down to talk about things that directly affected the special constitutional rights of aboriginal people, they have invited aboriginal politicians to participate. It’s now accepted that the federal government’s obligation to pay for aboriginal health care is a "fiduciary duty" — a legal bond of trust. So it’s reasonable to expect that aboriginal leaders would be invited to participate in any discussions that might affect that special relationship.
For this reason, and this reason alone, the federal government should agree to the request. Not to do so might violate the constitution, not to mention the Liberal government’s stated goals for dealing with Aboriginal Peoples, as set out in at least two speeches from the throne.
And the three aboriginal organizations are able to make strong social policy arguments too. The special constitutional relationship between Aboriginal Peoples and the Canadian state isn’t the only thing that makes their situation unique. The appalling state of aboriginal health makes Aboriginal Peoples unique too. It’s likely that no other groups within Canada get sick more often and die younger.
The three leaders included some well-known statistics in their letter to Chrétien, some of which have been reported in this newspaper before: that Inuit life expectancy in Nunavut is 10 years shorter than the Canadian average, that the tuberculosis rate among Inuit is 17 times higher than the national average, and that 60 per cent of First Nations people over 55 suffer from a disability.
So for that reason too, the federal government, and those provinces and territories that serve large aboriginal populations, should welcome aboriginal leaders in their health-care discussions — as a practical necessity.
Unfortunately, though, the argument made by the three aboriginal associations is also weakened — to a varying degree, depending on the organization you’re talking about — by their own lack of political legitimacy.
All three are associations, not governments. Unlike provincial or territorial governments, none are directly involved in the messy, day-to-day drudgery of running hospitals, clinics, nursing stations and health insurance programs. It’s questions about who should pay to run those systems, how much they should pay, and who should be accountable for the money that will dominate the Feb. 4 meeting.
And as aboriginal associations, their claim to "represent" all Aboriginal People in Canada is weaker than they might think. The AFN, for example, has only a limited ability to represent the interests of First Nations people who live off-reserve.
In the case of the Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, which still calls itself Canada’s national Inuit organization, that claim is extremely weak. In reality, ITK does not represent "Inuit." Canada’s Inuit population plays no role whatsoever in the election of its president and other senior officers, and has limited influence over its policies and practices.
In reality, ITK represents the interests of Canada’s regional Inuit corporations — because that’s who gets to choose its president and other senior officers. More accurately, ITK represents the vested interests of the small group of elected and non-elected officials who run those six organizations. It’s an association made up of a group of corporations, not a group of people. Depending on the region, some of those leaders enjoy genuine popular support, while others have come to office after beneficiary elections that produced turnouts of less than 50 per cent.
ITK certainly has a right to exist, and to do whatever work it wants to do, provided its officers are accountable for any public money that the government gives them. Corporate organizations like ITK can exercise the Charter right to freedom of association as much as anyone else can. Besides, the federal government has no choice but to invite ITK’s president to attend the Feb. 4 first ministers’ conference — because there’s no one around to play the role of Canada’s Inuit leader.
But ITK’s views on Inuit health care should not be taken as the final, authoritative word. To do so would be to ignore the real knowledge that lies within northern governments.
JB
Big city — small minds
It was amusing, but painful, to watch most Iqaluit city councilors display how little they know about their own community last week.
We’re referring, of course, to the wide-ranging discussion they conducted last week on the need to protect Iqaluit from "undesirables." That means people from other places who have exercised their freedom of choice and have decided to stay in Iqaluit rather than somewhere else.
To be fair, the issue was put before city council in the form of a resolution composed by the Niksiit committee, a kind of sub-committee of council that deals with social and health matters. This helps to show, at the very least, that city councilors aren’t alone in their petty bigotry and small-minded intolerance. Those attitudes likely run deep in the community, especially among longer-term residents.
But it’s curious that anyone should feel that way anymore, because it ignores an obvious reality: Nunavut is a dynamic, mobile society. Nunavummiut are still nomadic, as it were, but in a modern sense, moving from one place to another more than most other Canadians do.
Recent census figures show that 245 people moved into Iqaluit from other Nunavut communities between 1996 and 2001, and that 555 people moved here from other provinces and territories within the same period.
Across Nunavut, 915 people moved from one place to another in that period, and 1,215 came from other provinces and territories. In Rankin Inlet, at least 85 people moved there from other places in Nunavut, while Pangnirtung had 70 new arrivals and Pond Inlet had 60.
Nunavummiut are moving from one place to another in large numbers, within Nunavut and between Nunavut and the rest of Canada. Census numbers released this week, for instance, show that one out of every 10 Inuit live outside the Arctic.
There are people who move to find work, a better education, or training. There are people who move to be reunited with families, and there are people who move simply because they’re bored with where they once were. There are people who move to escape unspeakable abuse.
Whatever the reason, people have the right to live where they choose. And it’s natural that many will choose to live in their region’s largest centre. For the Baffin region, that’s Iqaluit. It’s still a small town by Canadian standards, but in Nunavut, full of opportunities, amenities and amusements not available in smaller places.
Iqaluit has attracted, and will attract, growing numbers of migrants from other Nunavut communities, other Canadian provinces and territories, and other countries. This is inevitable. There is nothing that anyone, least of Iqaluit city council, can do to stop it. Nor is there any good reason why they should stop it.
A mature city council would welcome in-migration from other places, because new people and a growing population create new demands for services and therefore new opportunities for economic and social development. A mature city council would respond to this reality by doing what they can to build Iqaluit’s stock of private or government-leased housing. A mature city council would facilitate the development of new economic and social enterprises aimed at filling new needs created by the arrival of new people.
Instead, council has, in the recent past, responded with brain-dead development policies that have blocked the construction of new housing and office space. Last week, they were on the verge of passing an unenforceable resolution that would have prevented certain "undesirable" groups of people from lingering in Iqaluit.
To be fair, there’s a grain of legitimacy in the issue that’s raised by the release of territorial inmates into the community who have finished serving their time. But of 116 people released from the Baffin Correctional Centre in the last six months of 2002, only four have remained here. Of those, two moved to southern Canada, and two stayed here to work in construction.
Besides, a cursory glance at the court docket on any given week will show that Iqaluit has done an excellent job of producing its own large crop of home-grown criminals.
It’s also natural, though, that Iqaluit residents would object to the presence of a repeat sex offender that another community wants to banish. But if anything, this simply illustrates the futility of using banishment to deal with repeat offenders — because it simply transfers one community’s problem into another.
If the Iqaluit city council believes that newcomers are straining the city’s resources, then they ought to know what to do. Document the problem, and lobby higher levels of government for more help.
JB
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