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Editorial

July 5, 2002 - Iqaluit council forgets the public interest

July 12, 2002 - A labour law for Nunavut?

July 19, 2002 - Safe cargo competition for the Kivalliq?

July 26, 2002 - The little boys at QWB

July 5, 2002

Iqaluit council forgets the public interest

In what the chairman of its development committee, Keith Irving, calls a "landmark" decision, Iqaluit city council has said no to a proposal that would have created 48 new housing units, along with more office and commercial space.

A brave decision, to be sure. But was it a responsible decision? In answering that question, there’s only one benchmark that matters: the public interest.

That includes not only the interests of Iqaluit’s public, but the interests of Nunavut’s public. As capital of Nunavut, Iqaluit is a platform from which numerous vital services are performed on behalf of all Nunavut residents. So any matter that affects the government’s ability to serve Nunavut from Iqaluit is of concern to all Nunavummiut.

The first issue Nunavut residents should consider is Iqaluit’s severe shortage of rental housing. Because of it, the territorial government can’t supply accommodation with the many vacant positions it’s advertising in Iqaluit. It’s an indisputable fact that Iqaluit’s housing shortage is obstructing the growth of a properly functioning territorial government. This hurts all Nunavut residents more or less equally.

It’s also obstructing business growth and job creation. No new business is likely to start up, and no established business is likely to expand if there’s no housing for new employees. With a real unemployment rate that hovers around 17 per cent, Iqaluit needs more, not less, economic development.

The housing shortage not only helps to keep people unemployed. It also makes people sick. Overcrowded living conditions are directly linked to the spread of crippling respiratory diseases such as tuberculosis and RSV. With their undeveloped immune systems, children are more vulnerable to these infections than any others. The cost to the health-care system is staggering. The human cost is incalculable.

Given this context, is it in the best interests of the people of Nunavut for the City of Iqaluit to pass up a chance to add 48 units to Iqaluit’s housing supply?

Another issue the people of Nunavut must consider is that the City of Iqaluit wants more of the Nunavut government’s money, in the form of grants to help pay for road paving, water and sewage infrastructure, and garbage disposal. In addition, the City of Iqaluit is preparing to ask Nunavut for tens of millions of dollars worth of loans, or loan guarantees, to help pay for the same kinds of things over the long term.

There’s no doubt that Iqaluit needs this help. But is Iqaluit doing enough to help itself? Unlike all other community governments in Nunavut, the City of Iqaluit gets a large proportion of its revenue from the taxation of private property. As the amount of private property grows, so does the amount of revenue available to spend on municipal services. The 48-unit development that the city turned down could have contributed many thousands of new tax dollars to the municipality every year.

Given this context, is it in the best interests of the people of Nunavut for their government to lend, or give, money to a municipal council that deliberately restricts the growth of its tax base?

A third factor is the cost of growth, including the environmental cost. Some Iqaluit residents have complained, not unreasonably, about sprawling subdivisions that have blanketed the hills to the south of the city’s older section. These areas are serviced by expensive water and sewage lines, the cost of which is passed on to homeowners and developers in the form of higher lot lease prices.

A recent consultant’s study recommends the city concentrate more development in areas already serviced by water and sewer lines — to reduce the need to build new ones. The 48-unit development that the city rejected was that kind of project. It would have been located in an area already served by water and sewer lines, and would have made more efficient use of them.

Given this context, is it in the best interests of the people of Iqaluit for city council to reject common-sense advice supplied by expensive consultants?

But what about the legitimate concerns of those Iqaluit residents who complain that too many of Iqaluit’s major buildings are ugly and badly placed? It’s certainly valid to say that Iqaluit has made many bad planning decisions over the years.

No one on city council, however, has made any attempt to define or describe what ought to be deemed acceptable. They’ve told us they don’t like buildings that look like boxes, but they haven’t said anything intelligible about what they do like.

When you make a structure with four walls, a roof and a floor, you end up with a "box." Qammaqs are shaped like boxes, more or less. So are the two buildings that stand across the street from the lot where Ninety North proposed to construct its 48-unit development.

But if a "box" is not acceptable, then what is? Geodesic domes? Egyptian pyramids?

Unless the city specifies what shapes and what designs and what materials are desirable, no developer will dare risk money on proposals that could be rejected on the basis of subjective aesthetic whims and other arbitrary prejudices.

Pretentious art-school gibberish about "contours" and "legibility" provide no guidance. The city must define what it means, in language that actually means something. If it can’t do that, then such considerations should not be part of any planning bylaw.

Besides, even if you accept the validity of city council’s concern about the appearance of Iqaluit’s downtown, they’ve expressed this concern in a curious way.

In effect, they’ve decided that an old snowmobile repair shop, a renovated trailer and a burned-out pool hall have more aesthetic appeal than a new apartment building. Since no one else is likely to dare make a development proposal for that assemblage of land for some time to come, those structures will probably sit there for years.

The question, then, answers itself.

On balance, Iqaluit’s city council gave too much weight to the legitimate issue of aesthetics, and no weight at all to Nunavut’s social and economic needs.

Iqaluit city council’s decision to reject a 48-unit apartment-office building on land assembled in front of the Nunavut legislature is, therefore, not in the public interest.

JB

TOP

July 12, 2002

A labour law for Nunavut?

"Made in Nunavut." That’s the Nunavut government’s favourite phrase right now, inserted into every speech, announcement, press release, and media statement — whether or not it makes any sense.

Whether it’s education, health, housing, social services, justice or economic policy, the GN wants us to believe that it’s sticking a "made-in-Nunavut" label onto everything it does.

Territorial governments, including Nunavut, are able to act in those areas because of a process called "devolution." Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Ottawa devolved a long list of powers and responsibilities to the Yukon and the Northwest Territories. After April 1, 1999, Nunavut inherited them all.

But there are some important areas of public policy that cannot be "made in Nunavut."

That’s because Ottawa has not yet transferred some province-like powers to the territories. They include the power to run criminal prosecutions, the power to tax and regulate oil, gas and mineral production — and the power to regulate labour relations.

Right now, whenever there’s a strike or lockout, or any attempt to organize or certify a union in the northern territories, all those activities are governed by a federal law — the Canada Labour Code.

Even if Ottawa were to give Nunavut the power to create its own labour law, there are some kinds of labour disputes that would always fall under Ottawa’s jurisdiction, such as airlines, broadcasting and telecommunications.

That means the seven-week strike by members of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers against NorthwesTel would always fall under federal law, even if responsibility for labour relations were devolved to Nunavut.

But that strike, and last year’s labour disputes involving members of the Nunavut Employees Union, are still a signal that in the future, organized labour in Nunavut will become a more aggressive force than it is now.

Even though Nunavut’s job-creation rate since the April 1, 1999, has been among the most rapid in Canada, Nunavut’s wage-earners are getting more and more dissatisfied with their lot. Whether they work for government, quasi-government organizations, or for private businesses, most Nunavummiut believe they are paying more than ever before for food, housing and transportation.

It’s well known that employee morale at the GN has fallen steadily since April 1, due in no small part to Nunavut’s escalating cost of living. As Iqaluit’s 2001 strike-lockout demonstrates, the same is happening to people who work for smaller employers.

Throughout the 1990s, wages and benefits for most workers were either cut or frozen. At the same time, the cost of food, housing and air transportation rose sharply. Wherever and whenever possible, wage-earners are trying to get back what they lost.

So it’s likely that in the future, we will see more strikes and lockouts in Nunavut, and that more employee groups will organize themselves into union locals. And if any of the much-hyped mining projects that we’ve heard about for the past 10 years are actually put into production, it’s inevitable that unions will attempt to conduct organizing drives at their work-sites.

Is Nunavut ready for this?

The Canada Labour Code, which is administered by a federal body called the Canada Industrial Relations Board, will always be there.

But it’s also likely that Nunavut would want legislation that enshrines arbitration, mediation and other dispute resolution processes that are consistent with Nunavut’s cultural values.

The Nunavut government should consider whether it wants the power to regulate labour relations within municipal governments, housing associations and private businesses.

Although most contract negotiations eventually work themselves out, there’s no guarantee that they always will. And there may come a time when the Nunavut government may wish to legislate an end to a potentially dangerous strike or lockout — and won’t have the power to do so.

JB

TOP

July 19, 2002

Safe cargo competition for the Kivalliq?

Thanks in part to an investigation done by the Transportation Safety Board of Canada into the Aug. 26, 2000, Avataq disaster, federal and territorial officials are now working to make sure Nunavut boat owners know how to operate safely — especially those who operate as informal cargo carriers.

Transport Canada is slowly attempting to identify small boat owners who offer commercial cargo services, so their vessels can be inspected. Such inspections will provide operators with potentially life-saving information, especially knowledge of how much cargo they may carry safely and what equipment they need to cope with emergencies. Transport Canada is also working with the government of Nunavut to translate its ship registration guide into Inuktitut.

Six or seven years ago, the Canadian Coast Guard translated another document, its Small Fishing Vessel: Safety Manual, into Inuktitut, and produced four Inuktitut-language documentaries on boating safety that were broadcast on TVNC.

As well, the Coast Guard has now started monitoring hunters’ MF radio frequencies. This effort is already bearing fruit, as we saw this week in Iqaluit when the Coast Guard heard that three Iqalungmiut in a freighter canoe ran into trouble on Frobisher Bay.

For its part, Nunavut Emergency Services is providing more boating safety education, and is working with the Coast Guard to develop a community-based auxiliary coast guard.

All this is useful. These agencies deserve praise for what they’ve done so far.

But the terrible loss of the Avataq’s captain and three crew members raises other serious issues that the government of Nunavut, especially the Department of Transportation, does not appear to be taking seriously.

The most serious of these is this question: Why are contractors and other shippers in the Kivalliq region using unsafe, unregulated small carriers?

Most Kivalliq communities are served by a barge operated out of Churchill by Northern Transportation Company Ltd. It is to be presumed that NTCL’s vessels are properly inspected and that their crews are properly trained.

But despite the availability of an established shipping company with more than 60 years of experience in northern Canada, Sanajiit Construction used an unlicenced lobster boat to ship more than 12 metric tons of building supplies. Combined with a smaller load of propane tanks, the Avataq ended up carrying 15.8 metric tons of goods.

The most chilling detail in the Transportation Safety Board’s Avataq report is this: After being loaded with its deadly cargo, the vessel sank so low its deck rode below the water line. The Avataq’s scuppers — deck drainage holes that are supposed to sit above the water — had been stopped up with barrel plugs to prevent sea water from gushing back onto the deck.

In a very real sense, the Avataq was half-sunk even before it departed the Port of Churchill. Yet, Louis Pilakapsi decided to head for Arviat that morning. Sadly, the heavy seas he encountered later merely finished the job that he himself had started when he overloaded his boat.

Pilakapsi may have been a popular politician and leader, much-beloved in his region. But on that day his actions were foolish and showed reckless disregard for the lives of his three crew members.

The safety board says that on at least one previous trip, his boat heeled over because of the amount of cargo on deck, but that after some cargo spilled into the sea, the boat righted itself and he continued on. Having had this experience, he ought to have known better. Given that three other men died with him, his actions might have warranted a charge of criminal negligence causing death.

So why have small boat-owners taken such appalling risks to supply what appears to be a badly needed alternative cargo service in the Kivalliq region? The Avataq incident is strong evidence suggesting there’s a powerful demand for such an alternative.

But this is not the way to do it. For example, no one would ever tolerate the use of unlicenced, uninspected aircraft flown by half-trained pilots as a way of providing competition for an airline monopoly. Why should commercial marine transportation be treated any differently?

The government of Nunavut’s Department of Transportation needs to work out a better marine resupply policy for the Kivalliq region. Such a policy might include working with NTCL to find ways of ensuring that its barge schedules better suit the needs of contractors and other shippers. It might include working with the Department of Sustainable Development to find ways of helping small boat owners enter the cargo business safely and responsibly.

Other Nunavut government departments and agencies, such as Public Works and the Nunavut Housing Corporation, should penalize contractors who use unregulated carriers in the fulfillment of government contracts. No one should get a financial reward for turning their boat into a death trap, and neither should those who hire them.

Finally, the federal Department of Transport should accelerate its efforts to identify, inspect and licence small boat owners who operate as commercial cargo carriers. After that, they should crack down — and crack down hard — on anyone who fails to comply with current safety rules.

If organizations such as the Kivalliq Inuit Association want to make themselves useful, they could help Transport Canada communicate with unilingual Inuit who may not understand the federal government’s English-language materials. Ignorance is no longer an option. As we now know, ignorance kills.

JB

TOP

July 26, 2002

The little boys at QWB

The hardworking people who report the news in Nunavut were confronted this week with a splendid example of the kinds of idiocy that they must overcome just to provide simple pieces of basic information to the public.

This week’s example was supplied by the Qikiqtaaluk Wildlife Board, who on Monday spewed out a press release concerning preparations for this years Hall Beach-Igloolik bowhead hunt.

It appears to be their first attempt to tell the public about a major cultural event that the entire circumpolar world — and not just Nunavut — is interested in.

At any rate, here’s what they had to say about the dirty scoundrels who skulk around Nunavut reporting the news:

"Due to some recent headlines which have been confusing to the public and frustrating to the Amittuq Bowhead Hunt Committee, the Qikiqtaaluk Wildlife Board is asking the media to stop ‘sensationalizing’ this hunt. This type of behaviour by the media is not acceptable in Inuit hunting tradition. The people involved in planning and carrying out the hunt wish to do this in a safe, efficient manner."

The last "headline" to appear in Nunatsiaq News concerning the upcoming Hall Beach-Igloolik bowhead hunt said this:

"Igloolik and Hall Beach hunters finalize details for bowhead hunt."

How irresponsible. A subhead printed below even contains the word "excitement," sure to inflame the fevered imaginations of our impressionable readers.

But there’s more. The report, published July 19, goes on to say that the Nunavut Wildlife Management Board has approved the hunt, and that the hunters’ and trappers organizations in Igloolik and Hall Beach are still meeting to work out various details, including the date when hunters will finally set out. The story ends by reporting that the people of Hall Beach and Igloolik are excited about the event, and want to support their hunters.

Wow. How salacious.

Stories printed in News North and broadcast on CBC North on this subject are in a similar vein, made up of whatever shards of information reporters were able to pry from the tight-lipped officials responsible for overseeing the hunt.

The organizations involved seem to have forgotten what the bowhead hunt is all about — a celebration of Inuit culture. Bowhead hunting is what the Thule people, the direct ancestors of today’s Inuit, excelled at, because of technological refinements like the detachable harpoon head. It was their marine mammal hunting skills that helped the Thule people thrive as they migrated westward into the eastern Arctic from Alaska at least 1200 years ago.

Nunavut’s modern bowhead hunts, held legally since 1996 under a provision of the Nunavut land claims agreement, are mostly for symbolic and quasi-ceremonial purposes. It’s certainly not a food-gathering exercise — with one bowhead whale caught every two or three years, no one can argue that it’s an essential subsistence activity. No one in Nunavut will starve to death if bowhead whales are never caught again.

So for the bowhead hunting ritual to have any meaning, all Nunavummiut need to feel connected to it. But if the media — the public’s eyes and ears — can’t tell the public about what’s going on, the hunt will have no meaning. And if the hunt has no meaning, then there will no longer be any reason for the Department of Fisheries and Oceans to licence a limited hunt for an endangered species.

But in response to the responsibility that’s been placed upon their shoulders, members of the Qikiqtaaluk Wildlife Board have reacted like little boys doing a big man’s job. Their fear and insecurity is painful to behold.

But their dishonesty is even worse to look at, as is exemplified by this nauseating, and essentially fascist, statement: "This type of behaviour by the media is not acceptable in Inuit hunting tradition."

This "behaviour," by the way, consists of a few phone calls made to the QWB’s highly paid employees, and to members of the hunt committee in Igloolik and Hall Beach. If making a phone call is "not acceptable in Inuit hunting tradition" then the Amittuq hunters had better cancel their teleconferences right away.

The media’s purpose, of course, is simply to help the Amittuq hunters share their experience with the rest of Nunavut — the only thing that makes the hunt worth doing in the first place.

The boys at the QWB have succeeded in creating the impression that the bowhead hunt is now out of control — and that it’s time to blame the media for their own ineptitude.

Our response to the QWB is this: Go out and find a mature adult to speak for you, someone who’s capable of answering simple questions with understandable answers. After that, we’ll sit down and get on with our jobs.

JB

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