Current ads
Jobs
Tenders
Notices
General

Click below

Editorial

June 7, 2002 - Decentralize or else

June 14, 2002 - Nunavut can’t neglect its capital city

June 21, 2002 - The NNI — Why should anyone care?

June 28, 2002 - The GN has failed Rankin Inlet

June 7, 2002

Decentralize or else

There are two reasons for the government of Nunavut’s implacable commitment to the idea of spreading government jobs and offices among the greatest possible number of communities.

The first reason is that, almost from the very beginning, pro-Nunavut activists promised that Nunavut would have a decentralized government. Mostly, they expressed this vision in negative terms — that Nunavut’s capital would not be "another Yellowknife," hosting a highly centralized province-like administration.

Although they were clear about what they did not want, they were vague about what they did want. This created an expectation that not only would Nunavut acquire a decentralized administration, but also that Nunavut would get a decentralization of political power — something that has definitely not happened.

But the notion stuck, and it wasn’t long before everyone in Nunavut fell in love with the word "decentralization," although many were less than precise about what it actually meant.

The second reason is that the people of Nunavut voted for a highly decentralized administration in the December 1995 capital plebiscite. Many readers may remember that 60 per cent of those who cast ballots chose Iqaluit, compared with only 39 per cent who chose Rankin Inlet.

Why? Partly because most people in Nunavut were led to believe that an Iqaluit capital would distribute the greatest number of jobs among the greatest number of communities. Earlier that year, the Nunavut Implementation Commission had issued a much-quoted report that produced a convincing-looking set of numbers saying just that. Iqaluit backers waved it around everywhere they went during a campaign whose loudest slogan was "Iqaluit for all of Nunavut."

One of the unintended consequences of all this is that even in the highest circles, government employees are now regarded — perhaps unconsciously — as if they were commodities to be bought, traded and moved around on spreadsheets by local and regional power brokers. That they are also human beings who provide service to the public and policy for the government often appears to be forgotten.

Still, Premier Paul Okalik has no choice but to carry out the decentralization project the government inherited on April 1, 1999. After the GN’s decentralization secretariat was created within the department of the executive, Okalik became politically accountable for the success or failure of that project. He couldn’t oppose decentralization even if he wanted to.

That explains why Okalik and his officials will press on with decentralization, not only where it makes sense, but also where it makes no sense.

For example, the impending move of 21 jobs in the department of sustainable development’s wildlife division will provide few "benefits" for Igloolik.

Although any spreadsheet jockey may shift a "job" from one community to another, human beings aren’t as easy to move around. It’s likely that most of the human beings who hold those DSD jobs will choose not to relocate. We also know, as a recent GN consultant’s report pointed out, that few of those vacancies will be filled locally, since they require advanced university degrees in biology and other subjects.

Most of those employees work in areas important not only for all the people of Nunavut, but also in areas where Canada is a party to international treaties, such as polar bear research. If the DSD’s wildlife division is weakened, it’s conceivable that the Nunavut government’s capacity to meet its obligations under the Nunavut land claim agreement and other laws will be weakened.

Decentralization works best where the affected jobs are simple and require months, not years, of training. The clerical functions within Nunavut Power Corporation’s successful headquarters in Baker Lake are a good example of that. But when the affected jobs are highly specialized and technical, decentralization fails. The health department’s operations and practice unit in Kugluktuk, where 12 highly specialized jobs have sat empty for two years, is a good example of such a failure.

All the evidence suggests that the upcoming DSD move promises to be a repetition of the Kugluktuk fiasco. No one, however, will care.

JB

TOP

June 14, 2002

Nunavut can’t neglect its capital city

Like the reeking contents of a blocked-up sewage pipe, a decade’s worth of financial neglect, human incompetence and sloppy planning are about to burst upon the people of Nunavut’s capital city.

If that happens, people everywhere else in Nunavut will feel its indirect effects. After decentralization is finished, Nunavut’s capital city will still host the largest number of government employees, especially those key headquarters people who plan and direct government services for the entire territory. Even now, we have clear evidence before us showing that Iqaluit’s planning-related housing shortage is hurting the Nunavut government’s ability to recruit the people it needs to do its work.

But it’s not just one crisis that Iqaluit faces right now — it’s many crises looming at once. Here’s a short summary of them:

• Water treatment, the service that protects you from getting sick when you drink straight from the tap, will soon be inadequate. The city is already planning to spend money that it may or may not have this fall to increase its water treatment capacity.

• The water reservoir, without more expansion, will reach its maximum storage capacity in five years.

• Aging sewer pipes — some sections of Iqaluit’s sewer pipe system are already leaking, while are others are too small to handle the expected sewage flow in years to come.

• Inadequate sewage treatment —the city’s three-year-old, $7-million sewage plant still isn’t operating, while at the same time the city is now facing a serious set of Fisheries Act charges laid in connection with sewage spills from its ancient sewage lagoon.

• A desperate shortage of lots, especially lots suitable for badly needed multi-unit apartment buildings. At this moment there are none. That’s why the Nunavut government can’t offer staff housing for most of the Iqaluit-based jobs it advertises these days. As a result, many jobs go unfilled, and the quality of government suffers.

• An out-dated general plan and zoning bylaw. With public consultation meetings set later this month, the city has begun the laborious process of creating a new one. But reaching consensus among Iqaluit’s cantankerous residents won’t be easy, and implementing it will cost a lot of money — new subdivisions will require the up-front spending of millions on roads and utilidor lines.

• A dilapidated network of unpaved dirt roads, responsible for lung-destroying clouds of dust and vehicle-destroying potholes.

• No sidewalks — in some areas, such as the Highway to Hell in front of the post office, taking a walk can be a life-threatening experience.

• Garbage disposal — the overflowing causeway dump is on its way to being replaced, and the city is making some headway in recycling, but as Iqaluit’s population increases, the mounds of trash that need to be collected, dumped and burned will multiply.

Unless the City of Iqaluit can find the tens of millions of dollars needed over the next five years to fix all these things, Nunavut’s capital will become unlivable, a Third World barrio festering within the bosom of a wealthy G8 nation.

City officials are entirely aware of the urgent infrastructure and planning issues facing Iqaluit, because of information contained in a set of recent consultants’ studies, and because of the common-sense observations that we’re all able to make.

They’ve already estimated what it will all cost, and have put those numbers into their financial projections for the next five years. In 2003, they’re projecting capital expenditures of $19.4 million, with the spending of $20 million in 2004, and $10.8 million in 2005.

Compared with capital spending of $7.2 million projected in the city’s revised budget passed this week, that’s a quantum leap. But even at this late date, it’s unclear how the City of Iqaluit will get that money.

Ideally, the government of Nunavut should abandon the application of narrow per-capita municipal funding formulas for Iqaluit, and fund its capital city on the basis of need.

But politically, that’s not likely to happen. Big, bad, multicultural Iqaluit is resented by MLAs who represent people in most other Nunavut communities, and they believe, inaccurately, that Iqaluit already gets more than it deserves.

So the city’s only option is to borrow heavily, on an unprecedented scale. To do that, the city will need support and co-operation from the department of community government and from the department of finance, especially in the form of guarantees to secure debentures and long-term loans.

The city will likely hold a type of municipal plebiscite this fall to seek approval for its long-term borrowing plans. That means city officials must first convince Iqaluit residents that their municipal government now possesses the financial competence needed to handle big long-term debt-loads. After that, the Nunavut government must be there to back up those loans, and provide some oversight on behalf of the public.

Will the Nunavut government help its capital city in its time of need? We’ll see.

JBTOP

June 21, 2002

The NNI — Why should anyone care?

If you think the current dispute between the Government of Nunavut and Nunavut Tunngavik Inc. is about Inuit rights, don’t let anyone fool you.

In essence, it’s a power struggle over who should decide public policy for the territorial government.

The GN believes cabinet must hang on to its authority. NTI, on the other hand, believes in a form of "consultation" that would give it an effective veto in many areas of territorial government policy.

Right now, the issue dividing the two organizations has to do with who should benefit from a territorial government procurement policy that gives a 14-per-cent competitive advantage to firms they define as "Nunavut businesses."

This is not about Inuit ownership, or Inuit rights. It’s about Nunavut-based businesses owned and operated by Nunavut residents, whether they’re Inuit or non-Inuit. It affects 35 companies — some owned by non-Inuit, some owned by Inuit — that were considered to be "northern businesses" under the government of the Northwest Territories. The new procurement policy, called Nunavummi Nangminiqaqtunik Ikajuuti, or "NNI," removes such preferential treatment from these businesses.

That’s because some, such as the Inuit-owned Norterra, operator of Canadian North and the Northern Transportation Company Ltd., aren’t controlled by a majority of Nunavut shareholders. The policy says that you can’t call yourself a Nunavut business unless 51 per cent of your shares are controlled by Nunavut residents. In Norterra’s case, only 50 per cent of its shares are "owned" by Nunavut residents, through Nunasi Corporation.

Others, such as Montreal-based Tower Arctic, are in a similar position.

To help these firms adjust to the new policy, NTI and the GN agreed that the 35 non-compliant businesses would be considered "Nunavut businesses" for two years, even if they didn’t fit the new definition. That grandfathering period ran out on March 31. A few days later, on April 5, the GN extended the grandfathering arrangement for one more year.

NTI officials reacted with outrage, alleging that the GN, itself a creature of Article 4 of the Nunavut land claims agreement, violated the agreement — by not "consulting" NTI about the decision.

Politically, and perhaps legally, the GN’s decision was clumsy and ill-timed. Only a few weeks before the cabinet decision on the matter, GN and NTI officials finished a lengthy review of the NNI policy. A report containing their findings has been tabled in the legislative assembly — and that report says nothing about extending the grandfathering arrangement for another year.

So the evidence available to the public shows that the GN did not "consult" NTI before making the decision. In doing so, they appear to have handed NTI’s lawyers a strong legal argument that they are sure to use in court.

If the issue gets to trial, there appears to be a strong possibility that a judge may find that the GN indeed violated the Nunavut land claims agreement, and the terms of their own NNI policy. On the other hand, a judge may find that the joint NNI review was an adequate form of consultation, that the government had the authority to make its own decision on the matter, and that the right to be consulted doesn’t give NTI a veto over public policy decisions.

But there’s a much bigger question — why should anyone care? For the ordinary people of Nunavut, this dispute is irrelevant to their lives.

And despite what NTI may claim in its various rhetorical assertions, it’s definitely not about the capacity of Inuit to participate in the Nunavut economy.

For example, through Nunasi Corporation, the Inuit of Nunavut have many tens of millions of dollars invested in the assets of Norterra — a non-compliant company that benefits from the one-year grandfathering extension.

NTI officials appear to be unaware of this reality. And it hasn’t stopped them from pandering to the politics of racial resentment. Here’s what Paul Kaludjak, NTI’s vice-president of finance, told a committee of MLAs in May:

"What we are dealing with is an Iqaluit phenomenon, and an invitation for the Inuit of Nunavut and everyone from other communities to continue to be dominated from Iqaluit by a handful of these companies."

We’re sure that Kaludjak means well, and that he honestly believes his organization is defending Inuit rights. But this is not a racial issue, it’s a technical issue. Even if NTI’s legal position is correct, that kind of cynical demagoguery simply creates unnecessary confusion.

For one thing, if those 35 companies were truly Iqaluit-based, they would fit the "Nunavut business" definition, and be eligible for its 14-per-cent competitive advantage. And, of course, the fact that many millions of Inuit dollars are invested in Norterra, a company that does not comply with the NNI, makes NTI’s position look like an amusing piece of silliness.

By the same token, there are businesses owned by non-Inuit that do meet the NNI criteria for "Nunavut business" status. Such non-Inuit businesses would benefit if NTI is successful in court, and a lot of those business are in Iqaluit.

Furthermore, we already ought to know that neither the land claims agreement, nor the NNI policy, will by themselves provide what Nunavut needs to build Inuit-owned businesses and create Inuit jobs.

Used the right way, these rather limited tools could help a bit, of course. But real economic development in Nunavut requires much, much more than preferential treatment for certain kinds of businesses bidding for government contracts.

Last year, the Conference Board of Canada, in an extensive report on Nunavut’s economy, set out what Nunavut really needs. That includes investment in the development of Nunavut’s "human capital," which in plain language means better education, vocational training, health care, and social services. Equally important, the conference board said, is extensive investment in infrastructure — roads, harbours, airports and telecommunications.

If NTI and the GN are truly interested in fostering the growth of Inuit-controlled business and finding jobs for Inuit in those businesses, that’s what they should be focusing on. And rather than fighting each over arcane policies and legal principles, they should be doing it together.

JB

TOP

June 28, 2002

The GN has failed Rankin Inlet

The history of filmmaking in Canada's Arctic is almost as long as the history of filmmaking itself.

When you consider that, it's truly astonishing that Canada's newest Arctic government does not yet have a policy on the film industry. If it had one, the people of Rankin Inlet would not now be watching $800,000 worth of economic activity go down the drain. That's the minimum estimate of what they lost when the producers of The Snow Walker decided recently to take their project to Churchill, Manitoba, instead of Rankin Inlet.

Rankin Inlet is represented by two cabinet ministers - Manitok Thompson of Rankin Inlet South-Whale Cove, and Jack Anawak of Rankin Inlet North - and its voters must surely be asking why the Nunavut cabinet allowed this fiasco to occur.

The first Inuk in Canada to be paid for work on a commercial motion picture was Daniel Allakariallak, a man from the Inukjuak area who died of starvation in 1923. Millions of cinema-goers around the world know him as "Nanook of the North," of Robert Flaherty's documentary film of the same name, released in 1922.

Since then, filmmakers have made hundreds of documentary and feature films in the Arctic. Some, like Land of the Long Day by Doug Wilkinson, were brilliant. Others were dreadful.

But by the 1970s and 1980s, film production became more than just a curious activity that every once in a while produced a brilliant documentary. It became a valuable economic activity leading to jobs, skills training and business growth for Nunavut residents, especially Inuit.

In 1974, the producers of The White Dawn hired dozens of Inuit from Iqaluit and Cape Dorset as actors and extras. That was followed in 1977 by Ed Folger's Nanook Taxi, and the creation of the Iqaluit-based Nunatsiakmiut Film Society. That group produced many Inuit-made Inuktitut language films - especially animations - still shown occasionally on APTN. Unfortunately, most of that creative spirit melted away when the federal government forced Nunatsiakmiut to merge with the Inuit Broadcast Corporation.

But later on, Igloolik Isuma Productions picked up where Nunatsiakmiut left off, breaking new trails in the production of Inuit-controlled Inuktitut-language drama, culminating with Atanarjuat. This stunning creation involved scores of Igloolik residents, circulating hundreds of thousands of dollars throughout the community and exposing dozens of people to new ways of earning cash.

Meanwhile, southern production companies showed up regularly in Nunavut throughout the 1980s and 1990s, most often in Iqaluit, to shoot scenes for Arctic or Antarctic feature films and made-for-TV movies, such as The Last Place on Earth, Map of the Human Heart, Trial at Fortitude Bay, Shadow of the Wolf, and many others.

These projects created hundreds of jobs and business opportunities for Nunavut residents. Nunavut residents acted, guided, translated, drove vehicles, catered meals, offered advice and supplied numerous other goods and services. On each one, Nunavut residents learned new skills and gained new experience.

When government officials use fancy words like "economic development" and "capacity building," that's the kind of thing they're talking about.

So it's curious that Finance Minister Kelvin Ng's recent budget contained no new measures aimed at helping the film industry in Nunavut. What's even more curious is that a year before, in March 2001, Nunavut government officials were given a set of proposals on how to do that, at a film industry gathering in Iqaluit.

One year later, nothing. The Nunavut government's sole response was to issue a press release "welcoming" the creation of a film industry association in Nunavut. How nice. They also say some bureaucratic brainiacs have been put to work on a "draft" policy. How diligent.

Ng's recent budget, which contained sweeping changes to tax policy in Nunavut, offered no tax credits to the film industry, which means Nunavut is still one of the few jurisdictions in Canada without them. And there are no provisions for the kinds of labour and travel rebates used in most other jurisdictions - such as Manitoba - to attract film production companies.

At the time, Ng bragged that his new tax measures make Nunavut's personal and corporate income tax rates the lowest in Canada, and would encourage more private investment in the territory. But at least one group of private investors has since decided that Manitoba is a better place to operate than Nunavut.

Having been kicked in the face by their own government, and failed by their two high-profile MLAs, the people of Rankin Inlet will have a lot of time to think about this between now and the next election.

JB

TOP

Advertising
Specs, rates,
& maps
Multi-paper
buying services
About the market
E-mail ad dept

More Information