Metis perspectives on justice: Reweaving kinship And recognizing non-duality

By Kerry Sloan96

Reframing the question: From “Justice” to Wahkotowin

I have been asked to respond to the question, “What might justice look like for Metis97 people?” Given that the term “justice” stems from ancient Greek and Roman ideas of fairness,98 I would like to reframe the question so that it is more culturally aligned with Metis thinking:99 “How can the laws of wahkotowin, or ‘kinship’100 help us to foster good relations with all of our relatives so that we can live good lives?”101 I suggest that strengthening kinship at all levels of Metis relationships – with the Creator, the Earth, the self, family, community, nation, other Indigenous nations, and with the state actors – will help to create conditions that allow Metis individuals and collectivities to flourish. Strengthening kinship will reduce the incidence of harms perpetrated both by and against Metis people, thus promoting healthy social functioning in a Metis law sense102 – and it will also help to create “justice,” both in terms of the Canadian criminal law and in terms of fair treatment of Metis people within Canadian society more broadly.

While Metis kinship relations have been disrupted by colonialism, including via residential schools, the “sixties scoop,” and over-incarceration, I have not focused here on the negative effects of these disruptions, which have been documented by other authors.103 My intent is to reveal the need to support and participate in the ongoing reanimation of kinship relations, and to suggest that doing so will improve the lives of Metis people.

A “roadmap” to responses to the question

In the discussion below, I reflect on four key areas of Metis life in which wahkotowin/kinship could be strengthened, leading to positive “practical results”: 1) family; 2) the land; 3) diplomacy; and 4) knowledge transmission.104

As I understand this to be an exercise in creative idea generation, I have not detailed how these practical results might be realized, or the degree to which federal government-Metis collaboration might be required, except in the section on Metis diplomacy, since it deals in part with Metis relations with the state. I think it is entirely possible that much of the reanimation of wahkotowin will take place independent of the state and, indeed, this is already happening.

While some suggestions for creating positive change appear in the concluding section, my aim here is not primarily to provide a list of action items; this has been done by many others.105 Steps to follow up many of these items have already been taken by federal and provincial governments.106 Nevertheless, true justice has yet to be achieved. My purpose, then, is to invite readers to imagine what it might be like to look at the creation of “justice” from Metis legal perspectives, and thus to imagine appreciating Metis law as inherently valuable – without needing to fit it within the “container” of Canadian law.107 Creating “Metis justice” would mean, from my perspective, not only solving practical problems, but engaging in relationship-building, and fostering miyo-wicehtowin – good relations – over time.

In formulating my responses, I assume that the Metis would have the political power to strengthen wahkotowin as described. This would imply the freedom of Metis people to strengthen, develop and use our own laws, but does not necessarily imply jurisdiction over/stemming from a land base (these issues will be discussed further in the section on “Land-Fraying and Reweaving”). Given historic Metis mobility – for instance, in pursuing the buffalo hunt, the fur trade and the cartage trade – Metis have long had forms of mobile jurisdiction108 that have depended on kinship and consent rather than, necessarily, on territory.

The use of Metis laws by Metis people is not limited to the Canadian law concept of “Aboriginal self-government,” which forms part of and is subordinate to state law,109 but refers to the exercise of law and governance on Metis terms, as envisioned by Metis people. Limiting Metis governance to “self-government” will impede the strengthening of wahkotowin necessary to achieve practical results. While greater scope for Metis self-government may be useful and beneficial, a “nation-to-nation” relationship implies a standard of self-determination for Metis and other Indigenous peoples. The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) states that Indigenous self-determination is an inherent right.110 The federal government, in its UNDRIP Act111 Action Plan, has stated its support for Metis self-determination.112 Notwithstanding all the hard work and well-intentioned effort that has gone into creating Metis self-government agreements in Alberta, Saskatchewan and Ontario, a nation-to-nation relationship implies that the Metis nation is not solely a collection of provincial political organizations; Metis people participate in a variety of polities. Metis nationhood also encompasses kinship and treaty relations with other Indigenous nations.

A word about the definition of “Metis”

Issues surrounding Metis identity are complex and contentious. Perhaps the problem is partly with the term itself. Given that “métis” derives from a French word, via Latin, meaning “mixed,” it has been used as a general term to describe people with both Indigenous and non-Indigenous ancestry. However, Metis people113 are not simply mixed; we are a distinctive historic nation descended from Indigenous and non-Indigenous ancestors who created families and other social relations with each other over many generations.114 Our identity is not based in blood quantum, but in wahkotowin. A Metis person is thus someone who is connected by kinship (through birth, adoption, or other means115) and community ties to a historic group with a national identity and a distinctive culture (with regional variations). This group is often referred to as the “Metis of the Northwest,” or as the “Red River Metis” – although there was also ethnogenesis elsewhere.116 Thus, while our Metis nation is distinctive, we are also diverse, encompassing a range of heritages, cultural practices, and experiences.117

Today, questions about Metis belonging are highly divisive, as are questions about connections to other mixed rooted Indigenous communities (sometimes referred to as “the other Metis”).118 For instance, in 2020, the Métis National Council (MNC) suspended the Métis Nation of Ontario (MNO) for granting citizenship to people from certain mixed rooted communities in Ontario, alleging they were not part of the historic Metis nation. The Métis Nation of Alberta (MNA) and the Métis Nation of Saskatchewan supported the MNO’s position, while the Métis Nation of BC and the Manitoba Métis Federation (MMF) were opposed. There has been further fragmentation provincially, with some people seceding from the MNA. The MMF has since left the MNC.119 While all groups except the MMF have since met under new MNC leadership, questions about Metis identity remain unresolved.

The teachings of wahkotowin ask us to find respectful ways of managing conflict, through regularized meetings and dialogue, consultation, and diplomacy. Wahkotowin and miyo-wicehtowin ask us to work towards repairing our relationships and expanding our network of alliances.

The importance and meaning of wahkotowin/kinship

In Metis legal theory, wahkotowin – literally, “kinship”120 – is a foundational concept;121 the term and what it represents both derive from Cree philosophy.122 Wahkotowin is about inter-human relationships, but it is also about all relationships within the natural world, as in the phrase “all my relations.” Wahkotowin implies all human- and non-human beings (including water, rocks and soil) are interrelated and have kinship obligations to look after one another. Inter-human relations imply kinship at every level: thus, wahkotowin governs family relations; it guides harvesting and other practices on the land; and it informs law, leadership, and diplomacy.123

Given the depths of our interconnections and interdependence, wahkotowin also implies that the divisions between beings are more apparent than actual. “Trickster" (Wesakajak – Nehiyaw/Cree; Nanabush – Anishinaabe/Saulteaux) stories, in which beings shapeshift, illustrate this aspect of wahkotowin. As we could potentially exist in another lifeform, we are bound to consider others with compassion. This non-dualist aspect of wahkotowin124 thus implies the need to respect others, listen to others, and to try to assist others, even if it might mean we endure difficulties or might have to give up something of ourselves.

While the goal of having healthy, functional relationships is not always attainable, non-duality implies impermanence as well as the fluidity of time,125 which suggest the benefit of taking a long view of things. Cycles of change in international relations might be longer than cycles of individual human lives. The goal is not to resolve or fix all problems for all time, but to engage respectfully in relationships, being mindful of our kinship responsibilities.126

Wahkotowin is embedded in Cree and Metis cultures, and has parallels across related Algonquian cultures, such as in the Anishinaabe concept of gdinawendimi (“we are all related”).127 It is enacted in ceremonies, and in art, music and aesthetics, as ways of reminding ourselves of our interconnections with other humans and non-human beings.128 A goal of these reminders is to learn to develop compassion and understanding, and thus to learn to refrain from harming others. At the same time, wahkotowin is an expression of science, of how things really are – it is based on observations of the natural world,129 including the idea of “spiritual exchange”130 between beings (e.g., an animal giving its life for another; decay allowing for conditions of life). Ideas of kinship are not vague, romantic concepts, but ones that were/are employed in life-or-death contexts such as diplomacy and warfare, and in reliance on the land for survival.131

Kinship can be strengthened by exchange and gifting (reciprocity); visiting;132 and cultural learning. For instance, the kinship practice of kiyokewin (visiting) has benefitted Indigenous youth in jail in Toronto, as documented by Metis criminologist Anna Flaminio. Through the visiting program—a collaboration between Aboriginal Youth Court and Aboriginal Legal Services of Toronto—Indigenous youth visit with Elders, community members and urban Indigenous youth workers, and participate in group circle settings, resulting in diversion from youth court and further jail time. This has created a greater degree of wellness among Indigenous youth involved with the criminal justice system in Toronto.133 Similarly, the Metis Justice Institute of Manitoba seeks to provide culturally relevant supports and diversion programs to Metis people who have been charged with criminal offences.134

A note about Metis law

As might be deduced from the above, many aspects of Metis political and legal thought are based in the traditions of our Indigenous kin, most notably the Nehiyaw/Cree, prairie Anishinaabe/Saulteaux, and Nakota/Assiniboine. These nations, along with the Metis, formed the Nehiyaw Pwat, or Iron Alliance, a more than 200-year-old treaty relationship of the central North American Plains.135 Because of historic kinship ties, Haudenosaunee (e.g., Kanien’ke:ha/Mohawk) and Dene cultures have likely also influenced Metis philosophy. Owing to the incorporation of congenial European borrowings – from French, Breton, Scottish, Irish and other traditions – Metis laws are distinctive, although still retaining their fundamental indigeneity.136

From all these traditions, we have woven a “new nation” with new cultures and new laws that share commonalities with both Indigenous and non-Indigenous inheritances and yet are particularly our own. Many Metis use the metaphor of the ceinture flechée, or arrow sash, a traditional Metis garment woven of multi-coloured threads,137 to describe the weaving together of various cultures, where the individual threads are still visible, but united to create a distinctive, unique artifact. At the same time, Metis law is not a monolith; laws may vary across communities.138

Metis law still operates today, and is constantly transforming.139 For instance, the oral Law of the Hunt, derived from Cree law, continues to be practised on the land, but parts of it have been codified, including the roles of Hunt Captains, who govern the hunt, as well as penalties for infractions (e.g., MNBC, Natural Resource Act, 2010).140 Although our wahkotowin has not disappeared, it is still in the process of being revitalized.

“Broken” wahkotowin

The well-known Metis Elder, educator playwright and storyteller Maria Campbell has suggested that we are living in an age of “broken” wahkotowin. This is not to suggest that kinship no longer exists, but that sometimes we are not able to see it or have forgotten how to respect it – and each other. Campbell exhorts people to “return to the principles of wahkotowin,” in order to create better lives for Indigenous people.141

Broken wahkotowin has resulted in part from the imposition of state law-based divisions between Indigenous peoples, such as between “Indian” and Metis, which are not consistent with traditional Metis kinship practices. While Metis people are culturally and politically distinctive, we often have complex kinship ties to other Indigenous nations, especially those of the Nehiyaw Pwat/Iron Alliance. While the intent of some state-based categorizations of Indigenous people may be ameliorative, in practice they foster division amongst Indigenous peoples and interfere with people’s identity formation and attachment to their communities. For instance, people seeking constitutional protection of their Metis Aboriginal rights according to the legal test in Powley must define themselves according to criteria that assume hard divisions between Metis and other Indigenous people (who may be their kin) and oblige them to describe their communities in ways that might not be accurate. Further, one of the consequences of Powley is that a long-standing alliance between Metis and “non-status Indians” – who were similarly unable to obtain Indian Act benefits – has been eroded, due to the legal need of Metis rights claimants to define themselves in opposition to “Indians.”142

According to Metis scholars Anna Flaminio and Cindy Gaudet, broken wahkotowin has also resulted from colonialist interference with visiting. For example, people who are incarcerated, whether in prison or in residential school, are prevented from visiting their relatives, and their lands.143 Interference with visiting amounts to interference with cultural knowledge transmission: languages may be lost, skills may be forgotten; ties with the land may be severed. When bonds of kinship are broken, so are feelings of belonging to family and community. Enforced separation from those we care about creates trauma that may impact our ability to care about others.

Based on results over time, it seems that repairing wahkotowin may be difficult given ongoing colonial realities. Nevertheless, I contend Metis law has ways of teaching us how to remember our kinship responsibilities.

In discussing family, land, diplomacy and knowledge transmission – four aspects of “broken” wahkotowin in the process of being repaired – there is no correct order, as these aspects are interlinked. For instance, land is also part of our family, and knowledge is not possible without land. The format below relates to Metis ideas of governance radiating outward from the family in concentric circles,144 but could easily be described in another way.

In the headings below, I have returned to the Metis metaphor of the ceinture flechée, which embodies the Cree concept of law as a kind of weaving or braiding,145 to describe both the brokenness of wahkotowin and its possibility of repair. In restoring wahkotowin, we are participating in weaving ourselves together.

Family – fraying and re-weaving

Audreen Houle and Elder Anne Carrière-Acco assert that “the extended family was and is the basic unit of Metis society,” and that the process of “creating good relations” was first exercised within the family.146 Thus, a Metis family is both a source and a microcosm of governance. Family-level governance controlled (and may still control) many areas of law analogous to family and child welfare law, criminal law, estates, property, and social welfare.147 The harmonious operation of these legal spheres has depended on healthy, functional relationships across extended families, and respect for older people (not just Elders) who act as decision makers in these contexts.

Respect for family also includes respect for self. It is this relationship through which we view all others. While, many times, others’ needs must come before our own, there are basic human needs that must be met before there can even be the possibility of participating in healthy kinship relations.

In order to provide minimal care of the body for survival, a person needs food, water, shelter, clothing, exercise and, occasionally, health care. However, people also have emotional, intellectual and spiritual needs.148 To flourish beyond mere physical survival, and to be able to be part of healthy social networks, people need meaningful human relationships, emotional and spiritual supports, methods of communication, education and training, and livelihoods. To be a functional part of any social unit, these needs must be met. To be able to respect others, one must be able to respect oneself, and be able to care for oneself, at least at a basic level. For many Metis people, poverty and discrimination have meant that these basic human needs have not been met.149

Traditionally, Metis people had a positive legal obligation to look after their family members and community members. In Metis communities, members were/are literally the extended kinship network in a local area. Many Metis stories illustrate the importance of providing for those who might have fewer family ties than others: single parents, orphans, and the elderly.150 For instance, part of the role of the Hunt Captain is to ensure meat and other animal products are distributed fairly. People would be assigned to hunt for the elderly and others not able to hunt for themselves. This still happens in Metis communities, as many people, especially in rural areas, would go hungry over the winter without a freezer full of “country food.” Another modern outgrowth of the law of sharing is the Alberta Métis Housing Society, which helps Metis people secure affordable housing.151 Similarly, during the COVID-19 pandemic, many Metis communities delivered food, toiletries, medicines and other necessities to people who had lost their jobs, or were house-bound. Proper functioning of the family, and family governance, depends on the basic needs of life being met.

Of course, ideally, family is also a source of love, support and care, without which most humans cannot flourish. Having healthy family-based governance requires healthy family relationships across generations. Traditionally, relationships between children and their aunts and uncles,152 and between children and grandparents and other elders were as important as the relationships children had with their parents.

Given the key importance to Metis governance of healthy family functioning, people had a positive obligation to help prevent families from breaking up, and to support families if break-up did eventually occur. According to Elders interviewed as part of a community research project about Metis law (the “Elders’ Conference”), a family experiencing difficulties had a right to expect help with childcare and instruction, and with basic necessities.153 Those helping families in need had a right to expect community assistance. Only in extreme cases were children separated from their parents.154 Anyone mistreating children would be subject to punishment, and eventually to banishment. Banishment – and any subsequent reinstatement – would only happen upon community consensus.

Unfortunately, as with other Indigenous peoples, as Metis people we have had our families disrupted by residential schools, day schools, the “sixties scoop”, and – still – outrageously high numbers of children in care.155

Modern Metis child and family service agencies and social welfare agencies have taken on many of the traditional functions practised by extended families and communities, and are thus revitalizing wahkotowin. CUMFI, the Central Urban Métis Federation Inc. in Saskatoon, is an example. CUMFI, which is run by and for Metis people as an independent agency, provides subsidized and supportive housing for families, temporary emergency housing, and educational and cultural programs.156 One of the main goals of CUMFI is to support families to retain or regain custody of their children.

On January 1, 2020, An Act respecting First Nations, Inuit and Métis Children, Youth and Families157 came into effect. This law affirms Indigenous peoples’ inherent right to exercise jurisdiction over their own child and family services. While it is still not clear how this will affect Metis agencies that are not Delegated Aboriginal Agencies, it is hoped that, in future, Metis people will be fully able to exercise our own child welfare jurisdiction, and will revitalize supports based in Metis laws.

Revitializing wahkotowin in families can also be achieved by supporting youth and Elders – and by fostering connections between them. Traditionally, children and youth spent a great deal of time with older people, learning life skills, land-based skills, stories, family histories, law and ethics, and other cultural knowledge. Older people, particularly women, made many decisions in communities dealing with harmful behaviour, especially in family matters.158 Depending on the severity of wrongs that might have been perpetuated, consultations and exhortations within the family were enough to help prevent harms from continuing. While close family members would be decision makers in various kinds of minor conflicts, larger, more serious offences would be dealt with at the extended family or clan level.159

Women are central to family governance and cultural knowledge transmission, and also have the responsibility to protect the land and water. Women are considered keepers of legal knowledge,160 as well as family histories.161 Traditionally, women mediated conflicts related to land rights. Given these important roles, as well as their role as life-givers, women were highly respected in Cree and Metis societies. Broken wahkotowin can be seen in departures from this – Metis women are now more likely than non-Indigenous women to be victims of domestic violence, murder and other violent crime.162

In addition to supporting women, tending to wahkotowin within families includes supporting 2SLGBTQQIA+ people and families. For instance, my Metis local (the Metis Nation of Greater Victoria) has its own 2SLGBTQQIA+ portfolio, which is especially active in supporting two-spirit/queer youth.

People of all genders, family configurations, ages and backgrounds are entitled to be supported as part of the larger Metis kinship network.

Land – Fraying and Reweaving

Kinship exists not just with other humans, but with all sentient beings, including the land, waters, and skies. Thus, in Metis practice, animals are respected as relatives. Animals should not be spoken of negatively, or teased. Animal habitats should be protected. If it is necessary to kill an animal for food, it should be done skillfully and mindfully. Prayers are said for a good hunt, and if any animals or birds are killed, offerings are given for them such as tobacco or other herbs. The carcass of an animal must be treated with respect, and all the meat and other parts should be used, so that an animal does not give its life in vain.163 Prayers and offerings are also given for fish and plants that are taken; permission should be asked before taking plants.164

A Metis story collected by Abenaki storyteller Joseph Bruchac tells of how the moose smoked the pipe of the humans and agreed to sometimes allow themselves to be killed and eaten by humans in exchange for the humans agreeing to only take what they need and to preserve the moose’s habitat.165 This is a human-moose treaty relationship based in wahkotowin. Similarly, the Cree Trappers of Chisasibi have stressed the agency of animals: “[...] hunters have no power over the game, animals have the last say as to whether they will be caught.”166 In addition to regulating human/non-human relationships, the law of the hunt was central to Metis governance and political culture.167 This law went with the Metis on hunts and was a form of mobile jurisdiction.168

In Saskatchewan in 1875, Metis attempts to enforce their own conservation laws in order to preserve the remaining buffalo were met with consternation by Canadian authorities, who were on the verge of claiming jurisdiction themselves in the Northwest.169 In addition to sending 50 Northwest Mounted Police to the Metis at Batoche as a show of force, the Canadians exacted a promise that the Metis would cease to publicly enforce their laws in the territory. This had disastrous consequences for the buffalo – and for the Metis and other Indigenous people who relied on them. The Hudson’s Bay Company and others were then free to kill buffalo indiscriminately, leading to the extirpation of buffalo on the plains; these actions led to Indigenous people’s starvation, and were seen as a coercive factor in the signing of Treaty 6.170

Metis in the Saskatchewan region at the time had mostly migrated there from the Red River area in Manitoba.171 Migration was prompted by a sudden influx of post-confederation settlers, and by the Canadian government’s failure to guarantee Metis land rights in the region. These rights were supposedly guaranteed by the Manitoba Act, 1870 – viewed by many Metis as a treaty. While most Red River Metis obtained scrip certificates entitling them to land (although not necessarily their own), scrip fraud and speculation were rife, leading many to lose their lands.172 Others sold theirs (often for far less than market value), choosing to leave for the west and north, where waves of settlement had yet to reach. However, it was not long before encroaching colonialism caught up with the Metis in Saskatchewan. Confronting this reality, Metis in the Batoche area requested recognition of their lands, especially as previous requests for representative government had been ignored. The Canadian government caused desperation among the region’s Metis by declining. With the buffalo herds drastically diminished, and residents’ fields and flocks now in jeopardy, people were faced with starvation. The Resistance of 1885 was entered into reluctantly,173 and failed to secure Metis land rights. With no way to preserve their lands, many Metis became “road allowance” people, literally liminal, squatting on government rights of way. Nearly 200 people died following the Battle of Batoche174 – not from combat wounds, but due to starvation and poverty, which exacerbated mortality from tuberculosis, influenza, and other diseases.

While Metis activism in Alberta resulted in government recognition of some Metis settlements in the province in the 1930s,175 in that same decade a traditional Metis village in Manitoba, Ste-Madeleine, was razed to create pastureland for settlers.176 This action was undertaken pursuant to the Prairie Farm Rehabilitation Act (1938) without consultation – many residents were not even informed in advance.177 Other than the Alberta Metis Settlements, no Metis territories have been officially recognized by Canadian governments, although Metis are pursuing a land claim in northwestern Saskatchewan and northeastern Alberta. In 2013, the Supreme Court of Canada granted a declaration in the Manitoba Métis Federation case (SCC 2013 14) that the Canadian government had failed to live up to its obligations in the administration of the scrip system in Manitoba. But the lands – now owned by innocent third parties – cannot be recovered.

There are still traditional Metis territories from Ontario to BC, and in the north. While many of these areas are sites of use rights, some scholars assert that Metis title (including shared title) still persists in some areas.178 Regions in northwest Saskatchewan and southern Manitoba have been recognized in case law as supporting Metis harvesting rights (e.g., Belhumeur (2007 SKPC 114); Laviolette (2005 SKPC 70); Goodon (2008 MBPC 59)). Metis land use patterns in northeastern BC gave rise to the requirement of a medium degree of consultation on the Site C hydroelectric dam project.

While there are Metis who do live a “traditional” lifestyle, living with the land, there are many others who have no connection to lands where their families once lived. As “the land helps us see and feel differently,”179 it is important for the preservation and practice of Metis culture that people, especially youth, have opportunities to experience being on the land. However, Metis relationships with territory are complicated.180 For instance, lands in the Metis “homeland” are in the traditional territories of allied First Nations (i.e., the nations of the Nehiyaw Pwat, or Iron Alliance, between the Nehiyaw/Cree, Anishinaabe/Saulteaux, Nakota/Assiniboine and Metis); Metis were permitted to live in these areas because of their kinship and other social ties to their allies.181 Eventually, these areas came to be seen as Metis. Sometimes, Metis had shared title with their allies; sometimes, they only had use rights – for instance, those agreed to via treaty (e.g,. Metis-Dakota treaties in the mid-1800s). Metis arguably had passage rights through non-allied territories (e.g., Blackfoot/Siksika territory in southern Alberta).182 Often, Metis organized land rights as between themselves based on the long lot patterns of their Québec cousins (although they dispensed with the semi-feudal aspects of these tenures). This was true, for example, at Red River and Batoche.

While some Metis people today live in traditional settlement areas, many of us do not. Some of us may be urban, some may be rural. The modern Metis Nation is thus made up of many communities, some of which are physically disparate, some of which are separated from their traditional land bases, and some of which are arguably not attached to particular lands. Although these territories were once connected, weblike,183 through trade and migration routes,184 they are now more likely to be connected virtually.

Nearly 30 years ago, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) recommended state recognition of Metis territories and jurisdiction.185 The drafters of RCAP recognized the harms that have resulted from Metis people’s broken wahkotowin with their lands: loss of cultural knowledge transmission, loss of economies, loss of access to food and medicines, and erosion of spiritual well-being.186 There have been efforts at the local community level to have older people teach urban and small-town youth skills out on the land; some Metis have shared hunts with First Nations in which Metis are invited to organize the hunt – a skill that harkens back to the buffalo days of the prairies. However, reweaving inter-Indigenous harvesting connections properly, in accordance with Metis law, would require wahkotowin of another kind: diplomacy. This is because the Metis Law of the Hunt is about international relations as well as inter-community matters. The Metis hunt law prescribes that if Metis people want to harvest in the territory of another nation, they must first ask permission. This will be particularly relevant where Metis currently have no treaty relationships and relatively few kinship ties with other Indigenous nations.

Diplomacy – fraying and reweaving

To prevent the continuation of wars in the mid-1800s over hunting territories, the Metis and the Dakota entered into harvesting and friendship treaties that built on the Iron Alliance – the Dakota are related to the Nakota, who were already treaty parties. To solidify the wahkotowin of these treaties, Metis and Dakota people intermarried and adopted each other’s children, including war orphans.187 Thus, today many Metis people have Dakota ancestry, and Dakota people have Metis ancestry. This is one example of the Iron Alliance leading to the creation of intercultural communities among alliance members.188

According to Cree scholar Robert Innes, in his nation, the Cowessess First Nation in Saskatchewan, these relationships still persist.189 Areas of Metis settlement such as Île à la Crosse (northwest Saskatchewan), St Louise (central Saskatchewan), Turtle Mountain (southern Manitoba and northern North Dakota), and the Peace Country in northeast BC are also intercultural spaces where Metis and their allies have lived together over many generations.

Since the Metis-Dakota treaties, Metis relations with other Indigenous nations have generally been peaceful … but not without differences of opinion. For instance, some First Nations at the time of the second Riel Resistance in 1885 said that it would be wrong to fight, as it would violate their treaty commitments with the Crown.190 Because of some Metis people’s connections with both settler and Indigenous societies and because of their multilingualism, Metis often functioned as cultural intermediaries. For instance, Metis people acted as interpreters during treaty negotiations, and others were scouts for the Northwest Mounted Police. Because some Metis farmed as well as hunted, fished and trapped, Metis were occasionally sought out by Indian Agents as farm instructors. While not many Metis people acted in these colonial roles, these choices did cause some resentment among other Indigenous people.

The most recent expression of this kind of sentiment was made by the Union of BC Indian Chiefs, who claimed that the Métis Nation of BC, the largest Metis political association in the province, acted in colonialist ways by supporting pipeline projects through unceded Indigenous territories (including those subject to land claims), and by declaring self-government.191

Twenty years ago, conflict was also generated when the Métis Nation of Alberta negotiated a harvesting agreement with the provincial government without consultation with other Indigenous nations. This angered many Indigenous people in Alberta, because, in their view, the Metis-provincial agreement challenged their claims to title and jurisdiction; as well, many Alberta nations, in the wake of Delgamuukw v BC, had title claims and treaty land entitlement claims pending. Eventually, the harvesting deal had to be scrapped, although the current regime has not involved full First Nations inputs either.192

Various First Nations have protested the self-government agreements signed with Metis nations in Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Ontario. For instance, in Ontario, some Chiefs have protested the MNO self-government agreement; this position has been supported by the Assembly of First Nations.193 The Wabun Treaty Council, a group of six nations in northeastern Ontario, has filed a court application to challenge the agreement. At issue is the potential that Metis “self-government” means title and jurisdiction, especially as Metis are claiming rights to consultation and accommodation in others’ territories. While the current wording of the three agreements does not encompass questions of title, or even harvesting rights, subject matters of future talks are not restricted.194

This conflict has prompted the Anishinabek Nation of Ontario to withdraw from a treaty relationship it entered into in 2004 with the MNO, as it views the western Ontario community members as Anishinaabe, and therefore not under Metis jurisdiction.

From a Metis perspective, title is not necessarily implicated in harvesting, as many Indigenous nations had/have use rights in the territories of other nations. Metis provincial organizations already exercise jurisdiction with respect to their own citizen harvesters. MNBC, for example, uses a modified Hunt Captain system, with regional Hunt Captains, who also have liaisons with local Metis communities. MNBC has enacted the Natural Resource Act, which embeds and expands on the Metis hunt laws. Again, harvesting laws were based on a form of mobile jurisdiction.

In discussing these issues with other Metis people and in reading the works of my Metis colleagues, it has been suggested to me that the best way to encourage and sustain good relationships within Metis society, with other Indigenous nations, and with the Crown, is to return to wahkotowin by engaging in treaty practices. This would entail having the physical and virtual space for meeting and visiting, including eating together. Having regularized meetings could help to prevent conflict from escalating, and – if sufficient time were set aside – could lead to creative, collaborative problem solving. A form of this has already been arranged by the federal government in its recognition of rights discussion tables, but these seem to be between Indigenous peoples and the Crown; they do not involve inter-Indigenous dialogue.

The possibility of expanded dialogue processes raises the question of who should represent Metis people. Although the government is accustomed to dealing with Metis provincial political associations (which were created partly for this purpose), these organizations are not the nation itself, and represent only a segment of the population. For instance, many local Metis communities are “charter communities” with ties to their provincial organizations but are fairly autonomous and are not beholden to support provincial-level decisions. In BC, for example, there are two large political organizations – MNBC and the BC Metis Federation – but there are also smaller organizations, such as the Louis Riel Society in the Vancouver Lower Mainland, and the independent societies in the environs of Kelly Lake, in the BC Peace Country. It is unfortunate that, in one of the key arenas of conflict between the Metis and the Crown, courts have ruled that the Crown is only obliged to deal with the largest Metis associations – those that have state recognition (Ft Chipewyan Métis Nation v Alberta, 2016 ABQB 713). Of course, it is understandable that the Crown would wish for some degree of certainty, a sense that they are dealing with reliable, legitimate authority, but Metis people should be able to have more latitude in determining who speaks for them. Some are worried that the intent of the federal government in signing the Metis self-government agreements is to only have to deal with the provincial Metis associations under the aegis of the MNC.195

Of course, repairing wahkotowin with other Indigenous nations and the state does not mean we can ignore inter-Metis conflict; we need to repair kinship amongst ourselves too. We can’t “unhear” Powley, or the Indian Act, or the Cunningham and Ft Chipewyan cases, we can continue to value ourselves, learn about our history and revitalize our cultures. We can continue to learn our laws, laws that teach inclusion and the fostering of alliances.

Knowledge transmission – gathering the threads

Learning about Metis history and culture, including law, is key to individual and group health, family cohesion, good governance, thoughtful relationships with the land, and functional diplomacy. Remembering our practices of wahkotowin and passing these down in every area of life is something we are re-learning. While government funding has been helpful in supporting cultural events, language learning, skills training, youth programming and health education, there is still much to do. It is not just we as Metis who need to learn about our history and culture – settlers and other Indigenous people could benefit from this as well.196 Because our cultures are distinctive, we might not have the same views or practices as other Indigenous people. We might make different cultural assumptions.

The subjects discussed above are interconnected. For instance, people who are not physically or mentally healthy cannot be fully open to learning. Emotional discord resulting from broken wahkotowin, at any level, impedes learning. Further, learning cannot be successful without connections to the land; dedicated indoor spaces are needed as well. Learning requires fostering connections with others. It is a collaborative process by which we become open to new ideas, even if uncomfortable. Finally, learning is most successful when there is support for those who share their knowledge, and for those who receive it.

Metis criminologist Anna Flaminio has suggested the creation of Metis legal institutions, in line with Call to Action No 50 of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report: “In keeping with the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, we call upon the federal government, in collaboration with Aboriginal organizations, to fund the establishment of Indigenous law institutes for the development, use, and understanding of Indigenous laws and access to justice.”197 So far, although people practise Metis law every day in multiple contexts, there is little literature about it, either popular or scholarly. I have tried to reference works and ideas of my colleagues in academia and Metis government, but I look forward to a future when there are thriving Metis legal institutions and Metis spaces for learning. I look forward to a future when Metis individuals, families and communities are thriving too, as we learn to better care for one another.

Concluding thoughts and suggestions

While the concern that inspired the request for this thought paper was the incarceration of Indigenous people all out of proportion to our numbers, I have tried to think about the question of “justice” for Metis people more broadly. Even if I wished to simply look at statistics, that might be challenging, as often data about Metis people is not disaggregated from data about Indigenous people generally, especially regarding criminal matters.198 While it is likely true that a variety of social factors, such as poverty, family ruptures, lack of access to education and good jobs, and poor mental health all contribute to over-incarceration, these realities have been documented by social scientists and numerous government reports. The overriding reason for a lack of “justice” among Metis people is colonialism, and the capitalism it has engendered.

Whether as a direct or indirect result of colonialism, our wahkotowin is broken. This is not to say Metis people have never had conflict for other reasons, or that Metis people are exempt from replicating unfortunate behaviours that seem to be part of the human condition. What I am saying is that, over time, Metis people developed theories and practices of dealing with conflict and social ills and these were functional.199 I have described these theories and practices, such as kinship and visiting, as “Metis law,” although even the term “law” is a borrowed one.200 Law includes jurisdiction, whether based in territories or otherwise. A key to healthy Metis functioning, then, is to be free from restraint in practising Metis law – including teaching Metis law – and to be encouraged and supported in doing so.

One of the foundational concepts of Metis law is wahkotowin, which is both theory and practice.201 Wahkotowin includes practices that help us recall the reality that we are all kin. This includes reaffirming our relationships to ourselves, our families, our communities, our lands and our neighbours – all our relations. It includes reinforcing knowledge about kinship through ceremony, spirit gifting, and visiting. Other Metis thinkers have suggested that revitalizing visiting is key to Metis wellness and is itself a form of ceremony.202 Creating space – literal and metaphorical – for kinship practices can help to restore health to Metis people at all levels. The following are some practices that could be helpful in reconstituting wahkotowin:

Reconstituting wahkotowin helps us to remember who we are and teaches us to value ourselves and others.

In reanimating these practices, we can remind ourselves of the non-duality teachings of wahkotowin that encourage us to value the uniqueness of individual and community expressions of Metisness, and to be inclusive and accepting of all our relatives, even when we disagree. These non-duality teachings also encourage us to take a long view of relationships, knowing that recognizing kinship doesn’t always mean an absence of conflict.

To help create health for Metis people – whether conceived of as “justice” or as the “good life” – we must, as Maria Campbell exhorts us, “return to the principles of wahkotowin.”