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Editorial

November 1, 2002 - Nunavut human rights law a welcome step
November 8, 2002 - Does Nunavut need a child’s rights advocate?
November 15, 2002 - DIAND should reconsider Nunavik negotiations
November 22, 2002 - GN made the right decision
November 29, 2002 - Welcome to the silly season

November 1, 2002

Nunavut human rights law a welcome step

Justice Minister Paul Okalik deserves praise for his attempt this week to correct a longstanding deficiency in territorial law: the absence of a modern, credible human rights act.

Nunavut’s human rights bill received first reading at the legislative assembly’s sitting in Pangnirtung this week, just as Nunatsiaq News went to press with this week’s issue. For that reason, we haven’t had a chance to read it in detail.

Until now, however, residents of Nunavut and the Northwest Territories have had to make do with two inadequate instruments for resolving human rights complaints.

One of them, the old territorial Fair Practices Act, has been considered to be an anachronism for nearly 15 years. Nunavut’s version is identical to the one used in the NWT. Its main weaknesses are a narrow range of grounds for discrimination, and toothless enforcement provisions. The Fair Practices Act doesn’t deal with things that weren’t public issues in the early 1970s — such as sexual harassment or sexual orientation.

The Fair Practices Act is administered by a mid-level territorial government employee called the "Fair Practices Officer" — so there are no absolute guarantees that complaints will be handled without political or bureaucratic interference. Since large numbers of Nunavummiut work for the territorial government and its various agencies, this provides little assurance to territorial government employees that any complaints they might bring against their employer will be dealt with fairly.

For that reason, territorial government workers have tended to use the grievance procedure set out in their collective agreement — where it’s possible for them to seek the assistance of union staff and union lawyers.

The Fair Practices Act provides next to nothing for Nunavummiut who don’t work for the government and who don’t the enjoy the protection of a union. Many Nunavummiut don’t even know that the Fair Practices Act exists, or how to use it.

Of course, Nunavut residents have always, in theory, had recourse to the Canadian Human Rights Commission, a federal body that normally deals with human rights complaints involving the federal government or areas of life that are regulated by the federal government.

But in practice, the Canadian Human Rights Commission is a faraway body that’s inaccessible to most Nunavummiut. To make a complaint, Nunavut residents must deal with the commission’s Prairies and Nunavut office in Winnipeg. Some Nunavummiut who complained to the Canadian Human Rights Commission have waited years for their complaints to be decided, and for compensation to be paid to them.

Nunavut residents need access to a human rights body that’s close to home, free from political influence, and capable of resolving complaints without undue delays.

And, as Okalik pointed out in an interview with Nunatsiaq News, it must also acknowledge that Inuit, though a majority in Nunavut, are a tiny minority in Canada. As an aboriginal people, Inuit were victims of blatant discrimination until at least the 1960s, and even throughout the 1970s and 1980s were victims of more subtle forms of discrimination within their own homeland.

Outside Nunavut, Inuit are a nearly invisible minority. Growing numbers of urban Inuit, far too many, are joining the ranks of the underprivileged and marginalized on the streets of Montreal and Ottawa.

So Nunavut’s non-Inuit must accept that Nunavut’s human rights law will permit governments and others to pursue reasonable affirmative action — or "positive discrimination" on behalf of Inuit.

On the other hand, the act must also recognize that human rights are inherent limitations on the power of the state — or any other collectivity — to interfere unreasonably with individual freedoms. That includes the freedom to work, travel, worship, rent an apartment, speak your mind, or walk down the street without being insulted just for being who you are.

Balancing the need for affirmative action against the need to protect individuals against the arbitrary power of the collective may turn out to be the greastest challenge posed by Nunavut’s human rights project.

JB

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November 8, 2002

Does Nunavut need a child’s rights advocate?

Quttiktuq MLA Rebekah Uqi Williams deserves much praise for raising an issue in the Nunavut legislative assembly last week that growing numbers of Nunavut residents have also been discussing.

In a member’s statement, and in a series of questions, Williams lobbied Nunavut’s minister of health and social services, Ed Picco, for the creation a children’s rights advocate for Nunavut.

The Nunavut Association of Municipalities first raised the idea about two years ago, for a variety of reasons. Those reasons include the large numbers of abused and neglected children in Nunavut, the often shaky system of foster homes called upon to take care of them, and the absence of any independent advocacy groups capable of speaking up for children.

Earlier this year, social services officials in the Baffin region admitted that some children at risk were required to stay with potentially abusive families because of a shortage of foster homes. Although that problem was rectified later in the year, it demonstrates that there may be times when the system may be powerless to protect children at risk — even when officials know they are at risk.

And any trip to a court house will tell you that too many Nunavut children are sexually and physically assaulted by parents or other family members.

We also know that roughly one of every four children in Nunavut is now growing up in a lone-parent family. About a fifth of those are led by men, and about four-fifths by women. While it’s probably safe to assume that many enjoy the support of large, extended families, it’s likely that at least some of those children are in need.

We have no way of knowing how many Nunavut children are malnourished, and how many don’t have proper clothing and housing. But given Nunavut’s brutally high cost of living, and our longstanding shortage of social housing and affordable private housing, it’s fair to assume that at least some of them are in need.

So there are many good reasons, it would seem, for creating a children’s rights advocate in Nunavut.

But the government of Nunavut might be well-advised to study the idea carefully first before jumping into it with too much haste.

First, they should develop a clear understanding of what they mean by "children’s rights." Everyone is likely to agree that all children have a right to be physically safe and secure, and should enjoy a right of access to education, health care and the necessities of life. But does a child have the right to sue his or her parents? Or a teacher, minister, or some other authority figure? If so, under what grounds?

There are many people in Nunavut who will be nervous about any government measure that appears to weaken the authority of parents and other extended family members, especially those who seek to maintain traditional values. The government should, at the very least, anticipate the possibility that the rights of children may conflict with the perceived rights of parents, and should think carefully about how to resolve those conflicts.

Second, if the government does decide to create a children’s advocate, whether in the form of a commissioner or some kind of appointed committee or tribunal, it must be set up at arms-length from government. It must be immune to political interference, especially from cabinet ministers or MLAs. Any other kind of arrangement would have little credibility with the public.

That’s why the government of Nunavut’s Children’s First Secretariat is not suited to the task. It may or may not turn out to be a useful tool for generating new policies, and better coordinating the work of territorial government departments whose work concerns children. But its staff work directly under the control of various deputy ministers, and through them, work directly under the control of cabinet. It’s highly unlikely that this group will ever speak out against the government — it is the government.

Although the idea of a children’s rights advocate still needs more thought and study, the government of Nunavut should at least study it seriously. And if the government concludes that it’s not a good idea, it should at least explain why.

JB

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November 15, 2002

DIAND should reconsider Nunavik negotiations

If Nunavik’s regional government negotiations fall apart because of the Kativik School Board’s attempts to stop them in court, the government of Canada should re-think its presence at those talks.

It’s the federal government, through the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development, that is representing the people of Canada at those negotiations. If the Quebec court finds that Makivik’s actions in connection with those negotiations have been illegal or unauthorized or illegitimate, then the federal government has no business being there.

In its legal briefs and in other statements, the school board raises serious questions about whether negotiations for Nunavik’s new form of government are based on democratic principles. If the court, after examining all the evidence, finds that the school board’s allegations are true, then the federal government must pull out of the process. And Ottawa should not come back to the table until Nunavik negotiators can demonstrate that they have a legal, democratic mandate to act on behalf of the people of Nunavik.

Not so long ago, the people of Nunavik appeared to be heading toward a new form of regional government within Quebec that promised at least some improvement over the quality of government they’re getting now.

Since the signing of the James Bay agreement in 1975, a patchwork of elected and appointed boards, councils and other bodies have emerged to provide public services in areas like health, education, social services and economic development in the region. An elected Nunavik assembly might, in theory, provide more accountable government, and might, in theory, provide better quality government than Nunavik residents now get from Quebec City.

So when the Nunavik Accord was signed and the Nunavik Commission set up, there were genuine reasons to be optimistic.

But since the completion of the Nunavik Commission’s "Aamiqqulata" or "Let Us Share" report in March 2001, the process has gone badly.

It’s not Makivik Corporation’s fault that only six of eight Nunavik commissioners agreed on the contents of the report.

But when one commissioner, Annie Popert, raised serious questions last year about the Inuit right of self-determination and the place of the Inuit within Canada and Quebec, her views were dismissed with arrogant and sometimes bullying condescension.

It’s not Makivik’s fault that the Nunavik Commission did not record her comments in their minutes, as she has demonstrated in evidence contained in numerous letters and documents sent to the media and to other places. But Makivik, a party to the Nunavik Accord, did nothing to correct those and other undemocratic practices.

There are legitimate responses to Popert’s questions. But there is no evidence that anyone made those responses in a respectful and statesmanlike manner. And there is little evidence that anyone, including Makivik, respected her right to disagree, or acknowledged that her concerns have at last some validity.

It’s also not Makivik’s fault that the "Let Us Share" report may contain flaws, errors or poorly considered recommendations.

But Makivik has shown little interest in the comments of those who have found such flaws — like the Kativik School Board. The report, for example, makes some recommendations about the design of Nunavik’s school system that may be unworkable — such as putting local education committees in charge of teacher training and recruitment.

Instead, Makivik has handled the process as if it were just another private business deal. With some enlightened statesmanship, Makivik could, and should have found ways of accommodating the school board’s substantial concerns. Instead, it has opted for mind-numbing stupidity. As a result, the creation of a new government in Nunavik is in danger of being delayed for a long, long time, and Makivik will have no one to blame but itself.

Makivik is on shaky ground. The organization has no direct experience or knowledge of the numerous technical details involved in designing a government. For that reason alone, it may not be a good idea for it to be acting alone on behalf of the people of Nunavik.

It’s also an aboriginal organization that is effectively negotiating a public government on behalf of all residents. That’s unprecedented. In Nunavut’s case, the federal government refused to negotiate a public government with Inuit-only organizations, and insisted that territorial MLAs be involved in the process.

For that reason alone, Ottawa should consider insisting that organizations besides Makivik, especially those with direct experience in government administration, participate directly in negotiations.

Finally, Ottawa should also consider the political principles that it brings to the table. A society that treats dissenters as if they were traitors is not ready to govern itself — and the federal government should make that view known to its negotiation partners.

JB

TOP

November 22, 2002

GN made the right decision

Not so long ago, Northern Transportation Company Ltd. was held up as a shining example of what aboriginal birthright corporations could be capable of doing — and rightly so.

Set up as a Crown corporation in 1934 by the federal government, NTCL’s barge service became an institution for people living in the Mackenzie Valley and the central and western Arctic. It’s provided a similar service to Kivalliq residents since 1975, hauling fuel and dry cargo along the coast of western Hudson Bay.

In 1986, two Inuit-owned birthright development firms, Nunasi Corporation and the Inuvialuit Development Corporation, joined forces to buy the company from the federal government. At the time, most northern residents applauded the deal, seeing it as a model for how aboriginal peoples could use their access to land claim compensation payments to gain control of the northern economy and build the kind of collective strength that leads to greater dignity and political power.

In 1995 and 1996, the NTCL’s political influence stood them in good stead. Backed by Nunavut Tunngavik Inc., NTCL mounted an aggressive campaign to win its first eastern Arctic fuel shipping and supply contract.

NTCL believed that some officials with the Government of the Northwest Territories had put themselves into a conflict of interest, due to close relationships they had with NTCL’s competitors. NTCL therefore feared that the contract might be awarded on the basis of corrupt motives. So the company hired Norman Inkster, a former commissioner of the RCMP, to conduct a private investigation of the GNWT and some of its officials. They also pressured the NWT premier into launching an investigation on behalf of the GNWT.

Guess what? NTCL got the contract, worth $90 million over three years.

In the six years since — the contract was renewed in 1999 — NTCL has bought fuel on the world markets and then shipped it to most Baffin and Kivalliq communities. In those years, no one ever had reason to question NTCL’s competence and honesty. They delivered on their commitments.

But in those years, fuel prices and fuel consumption rose sharply in Nunavut. The GN’s revolving fund for petroleum products, which is used as a kind of subsidy to even out the cost of fuel across Nunavut’s 25 communities, came under serious strain. The Government of Nunavut now spends a huge portion of its budget on energy costs — about $120 million a year, a figure that is climbing rapidly. And the national attention paid to the Kyoto accord, combined with those cost increases, has forced the government to take a serious look at energy consumption and energy conservation.

Though the Nunavut government could have communicated its intentions more clearly, it’s been obvious for at least a year that it wants to find new ways of managing energy consumption in Nunavut — including better ways of controlling the cost of petroleum products.

For some reason, NTCL didn’t get the message.

Except for the Kitikmeot region, it has been driven out of the fuel supply business everywhere in Nunavut. Some observers are even whispering that the company’s financial viability is in doubt — though this is likely an exaggeration. But it’s been a sad year for a proud, highly respected, aboriginal-owned company.

We don’t know why NTCL was incapable of providing competitive bids for the fuel supply and fuel distribution contracts that the GN awarded this year to non-Inuit companies. The public has little or no access to proprietary information held by private companies.

But if the message was cloudy before, after this week it’s crystal clear. When awarding contracts in areas of overwhelming importance to the public interest, the GN will put the public interest first. In this case, the public interest was in finding the lowest possible price for fuel.

Inuit ownership, even in the case of a non-NNI-compliant company like NTCL, is important. But the cost of fuel is a vital issue for Inuit hunters, homeowners and small business people. In this case, the best way to serve Inuit was to get the best price.

The GN made a tough decision when it decided to negotiate a lucrative fuel shipping contract with the Woodward Group, a non-Inuit firm based in Labrador. But it was the right decision.

JB

TOP

November 29, 2002

Welcome to the silly season

It’s official. The first made-in-Nunavut silly season is now upon us.

By "silly season," we mean that prolonged period before territorial elections when MLAs abandon attempts to pretend that they’re legislating on behalf of all territorial residents.

What counts is one’s own constituents, and no one else’s. The goal, of course is re-election, and whatever transparent forms of political manipulation will help them achieve it.

The Nunavut government’s 2003-04 capital budget, which Finance Minister Kelvin Ng tabled Nov. 20, marks the official launch of the silly season. How else do you explain a capital budget for next year that’s more than twice the original estimate for this year?

Given that up to a dozen sitting MLAs may face defeat in next fall’s election, next year’s capital budget is manna from heaven. As voters head to the polls across Nunavut next fall, their ears will echo with the late-summer racket of pile-drivers, hammers and electric table-saws.

Having voted to spend $143 million on new buildings and equipment within the 2003-04 fiscal year, nearly every MLA now has a big fat project to brag about in next fall’s election campaign. Watch for lots of talk from them between now and then about things like "my new school" and "my new nursing station."

Not only is the 2003-04 capital budget more than twice the amount projected in the 2002-03 capital budget, $70.3 million, it’s also well above what’s likely to be the final figure for 2002-03, $99.8 million.

(This year’s new money — approved in what MLAs call supplementary appropriations — is for new staff housing, project costs for three new hospitals, and badly needed water, sewage and airport improvements.)

In fairness, Nunavut needs every single dollar of next year’s capital spending. Even before division in 1999, Nunavut’s infrastructure was either deteriorating or being outstripped by a rapidly growing population. Hit hard by the fiscal shockwaves of 1995 and 1996, all three territorial governments have watched their schools, nursing stations and municipal infrastructure fall apart.

It’s only now that the territorial government’s capital budget is approaching what was spent normally under the government of the Northwest Territories. And Nunavut has a lot of catching up to do, especially in making up for what was lost or delayed as a result of the creation of Nunavut.

But whether they realize it or not, MLAs made a major statement about themselves this week.

Forget ministerial statements and speeches from the throne. A government’s true identity is to be found in its budgets. It’s there that governments reveal who and what they care about — and who and what they’re content to ignore.

So what does this fall’s capital budget say about who the government — and MLAs — really care about?

It says that, in addition to getting themselves re-elected, MLAs are in love with schools, hospitals and municipal works — the kinds of projects that lead to easily organized ribbon-cutting ceremonies and easily lip-read speeches.

And it shows they definitely do not care about prison inmates, social housing tenants or the homeless.

In the 2003-04 capital budget you will find no reference to these badly needed items: a new correctional centre for men, a correctional centre for women, and remand centres for both men and women.

The construction of correctional facilities should, of course, have been included as a reasonable increment cost of creating Nunavut in 1999, along with many other pieces of infrastructure that we still don’t have. All territorial correctional centres but one were located on the Northwest Territories’ side of the division boundary. Those who planned for Nunavut failed to acknowledge this need, just as most Nunavut MLAs are failing to acknowledge it now.

But Nunavut’s high rates of violent crime — the highest in the country — are likely to continue long into the future. This means that many of your brothers, nephews, cousins, and uncles will continue to do their time outside of Nunavut. As for female offenders, there’s nothing.

In the area of social housing, the government of Nunavut appears to be giving up. The Nunavut Housing Corporation will build some replacements for fire-damaged units, and two new units for each community. But it’s focusing its efforts on home-ownership programs, in an obvious attempt to shift future maintenance costs onto the shoulders of people who are now social housing tenants.

JB

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