Editorials

April 29, 1999
The right move at the right time

Only 22 days after having taken their oaths of office, Nunavut's new MLAs and cabinet ministers have shown that they are not afraid to make resolute decisions when the need for such decisions is obvious.

Their decision to eliminate Nunavut's regional education and health boards was the right move at the right time.

Ever since 1995, when the Nunavut Implementation Commission recommended the elimination of Nunavut's regional boards, a lingering cloud of uncertainty has overshadowed their future. For nearly four years, board employees, decision-makers at all levels, and the public have not known who will end up in charge of health, education, and social services in Nunavut.

Having had the matter referred to them by the three parties to the Nunavut accord, the Nunavut government brought a swift end to this uncertainty.

That, however, does not mean that we know everything we need to know about how these departments will operate in the future. The work that they carry out directly affects the life of every single resident of Nunavut. Added together, the budgets of these two departments account for about half of all territorial government spending.

In executing the decision that they made last week, the Nunavut cabinet will create new issues, and new decisions that they and others must make in the near future to resolve those issues.

For example, the Education Act that Nunavut has inherited from the GNWT allows elected community education bodies — or district education authorities — to seek powers and responsibilities that in the past were held only by divisional boards.

Some local bodies, such as the Iqaluit District Education Authority, have already made it known that they are willing to take on such responsibilities. Others may not be so ready. In all cases, there are serious questions about whether such local bodies have the capacity right now to play a greater role in running schools in their communities, and how much it may cost to develop that capacity.

It's obvious then, that the Department of Education needs to develop a new policy to guide its relationships with community education bodies, and, perhaps, a new process for carrying out that policy.

In the areas over which the Department of Health and Social Services is responsible, it's not clear what the government means when it talks about "preserving and enhancing" the role of community health and social service committees.

Does this mean that the government will use such committees to seek advice and information? Or does it mean that the government will allow them to run some programs in the communities?

A year from now, when they will have wrested control over education, health, and social services from the regional boards, Nunavut's fledgling government will be able to directly assert its authority over the two areas of government that affect more people more deeply than any others. In doing this they will save millions of dollars a year, and gain the ability to make rational decisions that will ensure that all Nunavut residents get the same services no matter where they live.

But once having acquired that power, the Nunavut government may be reluctant to give it back to the communities. That, however, is an issue for the future. JB

Given the multiplicity of loopholes that reside within Nunavut's antiquated liquor law, it shouldn't surprise anyone that somebody has finally found a way to run an unlicenced booze can in Nunavut's capital (Nunatsiaq News, April 16, 1999).

The only real surprise is that it took so long.

There are many inadequate statutes inherited from the Northwest Territories that Nunavut legislators will want to amend. The Nunavut Liquor Act ought to be at the top of their list.

Here are a few suggestions for how our new government can combat bootlegging in Iqaluit, and the rest of Nunavut.

Right now the maximum fine for illegally selling liquor is only $250. In some communities that's less than the street price of a single bottle of bootleg booze.

The Nunavut legislative assembly should amend the liquor act so that the maximum fine for those convicted of such offences lies at least within the $2,000 to $5,000 range. At the same time, the maximum penalty for failure to pay should be raised to between one and two years in prison. The law should also give judges the option of sending repeat offenders to jail in addition to fining them.

The Iqaluit liquor store has been closed for retail sales in Iqaluit since 1976. It's continued closure, however, no longer appears to serve any useful purpose.

In 1970s, many Iqaluit residents — for good reason — demanded that the Iqaluit liquor store be closed for local retail sales on the grounds that too many people were using it to supply spontaneous binge drinking parties that were wreaking havoc in the community. Today, many Iqaluit residents are still doing the same thing — they just buy their liquor from bootleggers instead of the liquor store.

Alcohol abuse in Iqaluit is as much of a disgrace now as it was in the 1970s. It's hard to imagine that re-opening the liquor store could make this situation any worse than it already is. At the same time, it would deprive local criminals of an important source of illegal income.

Coupled with harsher penalties for bootleggers, re-opening the Iqaluit liquor store could reduce the flow of bootleg liquor in Iqaluit to a trickle.

Treatment and counselling services for alcoholics and drug addicts in Nunavut are pitifully inadequate. Counsellors and treatment workers have always been undervalued and underpaid. The only treatment centre in all of Nunavut has been closed for months, and was recently used as a hotel for journalists visiting Iqaluit during the April 1 celebrations.

The Nunavut government should therefore consider imposing a surtax on retail and wholesale liquor sales to offset the cost of providing treatment and counselling for alcoholics and drug addicts.

Alcohol may be a legal substance, and those who want to consume alcohol certainly have a right to buy it. But there's no reason why the Nunavut government should sell it cheaply — not while so many residents are using it to destroy themselves and their families. JB

Return to Headline News

On March 16, 1998, a piece of human refuse by the name of Steven Ayalik, aged 31, selected a 12-gauge pump-action shotgun from a cabinet in his house in Kuglugtuk and loaded five shells into it.

He had every legal right to possess the weapon. When he had applied for a firearms acquisition permit in January of 1994, his wife and a social worker had signed a character reference for him.

Ayalik walked into the bathroom, pushed the mu le of his gun into the mouth of his 13-year-old stepdaughter Michelle, then pushed her down into the bathtub and pulled the trigger.

After that, Ayalik walked through the kitchen, where he ejected the spent round and loaded another into the chamber. In the master bedroom, he found two of his children, Allison, aged seven, and Alexander, aged four.

Ayalik then shot each sleeping child in the face.

For reasons that we will never understand, Ayalik did not murder a fourth child, a son who appeared at the doorway. Instead, he ordered the child to go to his grandmother's. By the time police arrived, Ayalik had used a fourth round to shoot himself in the head.

So ended an episode of evil such as few communities anywhere in Canada's Arctic have had to endure. So began an investigative process that exposed a seven-year cycle of official incompetence, and neglect.

A subsequent coroner's investigation shows that those who had the legal and moral duty to protect the lives of the three innocent children who Ayalik murdered that night failed consistently to perform their duties.

For example:

• In September, 1991, Ayalik picked up his infant son and threw him across a room. He was never convicted of the crime and social workers never conducted a child welfare investigation.
• In September, 1994, Ayalik applied for an FAC, admitting on the form that he had been reported to the police for acts of violence in reference to the assault on his infant child. Despite that, a social worker signed a character reference on Ayalik's behalf.
• In 1994, 1996, and 1997, Ayalik was convicted of beating his wife in front of his four children, and on one occasion of beating and attempting to rape a neighbour who attempted to intervene. Social workers never conducted a child welfare investigation.

Chief Corner Percy Kinney's report into Ayalik's triple-murder-suicide is now in the hands of Nunavut Premier Paul Okalik, Justice Minister Jack Anawak, and Social Services Minister Ed Picco. Kinney's report contains many sensible recommendations aimed at taking firearms out of the hands of violent offenders, while allowing them access to firearms when they need to go hunting.

Northern Canada is a violent society. In 1996, assaults in the Northwest Territories occurred at a rate of 5,032 per 100,000. In the rest of Canada, they occurred at a rate of only 934 per 100,000.

The Nunavut government must make it an urgent priority to ensure that Nunavut has a child protection system that actually protects children, and a justice system that protects all of us. JB

Return to Headline News

Two weeks ago you could have seen them all over Iqaluit. Hungry, badly-dressed, nervous and ashamed, shuffling from place to place with their precious "job search" forms stuffed into their pockets or clutched in their often shaky hands.

These were Iqaluit's social assistance recipients, sent onto the streets by social assistance workers to "search" for jobs among local employers.

The object of the exercise is to gather signatures on a piece of paper that asks employers to say if he or she has any jobs for the prospective social assistance recipient. The form also asks the employer to add comments about what the person may need to do to qualify for a job within their business or organization.

That part is usually left blank, since few employers have the time to interview people who walk off the street looking for non-existent, unskilled jobs. Many employers don't have any unskilled jobs available anyway. And all employers do not relish the prospect of offering jobs to people who are obviously unemployable anyway.

They know that the sooner a prospective social assistance recipient can gather the required number of signatures on their job search forms, the sooner he or she can get a welfare check.

So most employers are happy to play the game. In a town whose unemployment rate hovers between 18 and 21 percent, they know that a "job search" is a farcical concept, especially for the unskilled, the addicted, the badly educated, and those whose minds and hearts have been shattered beyond repair.

The idea grew out an ill-fated GNWT initiative launched in 1994 called "income reform." Well-intentioned in theory, the income reform initiative's basic objective was to help welfare recipients get off welfare, especially young able-bodied people presumed to be capable of working. At that time, the federal government gave Yellowknife about $12 million to play with, and the GNWT went ahead and spent in on a variety of pilot projects.

After the GNWT finished playing with Ottawa's money, the initiative appeared to fi le, leaving in its wake the lingering attitude that most people on welfare don't really deserve to get it, and that the cure is to humiliate them into looking for work.

Few people recognize however, that many of these people are unemployed for good reason.

There are those who don't know how to do anything useful for an employer, or don't know how to read and write. In a society where academic standards are low and the school system barely has enough money to function, this is a pattern that is difficult to break

There are those who are often too stoned or drunk to hold a job. In a society that venerates intoxication, that too is a pattern that's difficult to break.

There are those who are too mentally or emotionally unstable to ever hold a job for more than a few days. In a society where mental health care is virtually non-existent, that too is a pattern that is difficult to break.

And there are those who can't get jobs because they have lengthy criminal records and who employers are afraid to trust. In a society that has the highest crime rate in the country, that is pattern that is difficult to break.

The poor who trudge the streets of Iqaluit every month in search of non-existent jobs in the name of a non-existent social policy and a social services system that offers no services, represent a seemingly hopeless conglomeration of human problems upon which Nunavut will ultimately be judged.

There are a lucky few who have done well out of the creation of Nunavut and the settlement of the Nunavut land claim. The speaker of the Nunavut legislative assembly, for example, will earn more money than the prime minister of Canada.

But there are the unlucky many, stuck in a morass of hopelessness, violence, and degrading intoxication. Add to that the growing numbers of working poor whose incomes are not keeping up with the cost of living and you have a recipe for an ugly, permanently institutionalized class system.

Nunavut will not be judged on how well it can put on fancy television shows. Nunavut will be judged by how well it can teach the young, heal the sick, and counsel the afflicted. This will be the real test.

If Nunavut's new government fails to appreciate this, Nunavut itself will be a failure. And no one will judge this failure more harshly than the people of Nunavut.

In last week's round of April celebrations, the people of Nunavut renewed their faith in the great dream. Those who govern Nunavut are now on notice. Don't break that faith. JB

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

More Information