Ottawa Report

Page 2

"Native hopes crushed as talks fail," said the front page headline on my local newspaper on the day after the First Ministers Conference on Aboriginal rights. I've heard other news reports to the same effect-that Native leaders are sad and depressed by the conference failure. I think it's time to correct that impression before Native people get the idea that they should start looking for a bridge to jump off. I certainly didn't feel crushed or even disappointed by the outcome of the conference. Instead, I felt better and stronger than I have for years.

But I have to admit that I was more than a little worried on more than a few occasions in the weeks leading up to the conference. I was afraid that the many rumours I'd heard might come true. I'd heard that the united front of the four Native groups would break up. I'd heard that one or more of the groups would settle for a watered-down deal at the conference. I was afraid of a split because I know it would create dissension within the Native community that would last for years.

By the time the conference began, there were front-page reports that the Inuit were going to break away from the other groups and go for their own deal. The tension and suspense was at a peak when the conference moved into its last day.

Finally, on Friday afternoon it became clear there would be no deal. The conference then moved to its dramatic conclusion when the Native leaders addressed the first ministers. It was an afternoon that will ring in the memory of Native people across the country for years to come.

Georges Erasmus, Smokey Bruyere, John Amagoalik, and Zebedee Nungak will be remembered for their forceful, often eloquent remarks. They spoke with little sign of the disappointment or bitterness they might have felt when the first ministers refused to recognize Native rights. In short, it was a class act, a demonstration of strength and dignity in the face of failure.

But the one thing Native people will remember most about that day was the way Jim Sinclair unleased an electrifying attack on some of the hardline pemiers. British Columbia's Bill Vander Zalm was one target. On the opening day of the conference, VanderZalm made a big deal of the fact that he came to Canada from Holland in 1949. He mentioned that he had met many Native soldiers who had fought to free the Dutch people from Nazi occupation in World War Two. He also bragged about his recent visit to a coastal Indian village. He infuriated the Native people in the hall with his paternalistic performance.

So Sinclair attached Vander Zalm's pat-on-the-head attitude to Native people. It was a shame, he said, that Native soldiers died in Europe so that people like Vander Zalm could move to Canada, become a premier and then refuse to recognize the rights of the Native people. Before Sinclair finished his remark, the hall exploded in shouting, clapping, whistles and cheers. Wave after wave of applause rolled through the hall as 200 Native people roared their approval.

IF that wasn't enough, Sinclair then took aim at his own premier, Grant Devine. Sinclair blasted him on issue after issue. He ended by accusing Devine of fostering racism and white supremacy. He was interrupted five times with cheers and thundering applause.

The Native people in the hall reacted the way they did because Jim Sinclair said what was on their minds and in their hearts. What's more, he triggered the emotions of Native people across the country.

In contrast to the complex constitutional arguments, he spoke about subjects that Native people know all-too-well-racism and poverty. In contrast to the legal mumbo-jumbo of the conference, he spoke in a language that everyone could understand. By confronting the premiers, by speaking about subjects that affect Native people directly, and by using language that everyone understands, Jim Sinclair touched the soul of Indian, Inuit and Metis people everywhere. He brought the pain and the anger that lies benath the skin of Native people to the surface. At the same time, though, he ignited the pride in ourselves as a people.

But Jim Sinclair wasn't the only one who made an impression on me that memorable afternoon. What really hit home was the sight of the Native people in the hall standing in tribute as the Native leaders spoke. I was moved by their gesture of strength, solidarity, dignity and respect. I was moved by the sight of Indian, Inuit and Metis people standing tall, standing together.

Remember that date: Friday, March 27, 1987. It was a good day to be one of the Aboriginal people ? to be standing tall and standing together.