RUBENSTEIN/CLIFTON: Indigenous strategy, name it and claim it

Shakespeare’s popular line from Romeo and Juliet that “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” is only superficially true: most people understand that names — good, bad, and ugly — hold considerable moral, symbolic, and political importance.Indigenous activists and their non-indigenous supporters know this most of all, which is why they have been working tirelessly to effect name changes across the land for decades. The 2021 announcement of 215 indigenous children allegedly buried in unmarked graves next to the Kamloops Indian Residential School greatly accelerated changing Canada’s geographic nomenclature.In 2022, 24 Indian Bands officially had their names changed in Ottawa’s records, the most in more than 20 years.This renaming obscures the results of a 2016 federal government study tallying 23,303 confirmed placenames originating from First Nations, Inuit, and Métis culture. There are also another 6,272 probable indigenous names, including towns, water features, and other landmarks.Many of these traditional or resurrected indigenous names are well deserved. Others, however, are highly problematic.The latter includes the 2023 decision by the city council of Winnipeg, Manitoba to change the name of Bishop Grandin Boulevard to Abinojii Mikanah, meaning “Children’s Road” in Ojibway and Cree, even though one councillor opined the change would be “confusing, costly and potentially even dangerous” in cases where first responders are looking for addresses. He also raised concerns that some people might refuse to use the new, nearly unpronounceable name..One indigenous leader, Grand Chief Cathy Merrick of the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs, said changing the boulevard’s name will raise awareness about aboriginal history and culture while helping to bring different communities together.How this name change would achieve these goals was never detailed, an understandable failure given that there was no previous trail, let alone a road, before its construction in 1990 across what was originally a forested area later transformed into commercial farmland by European settlers. This did not prevent Chief Merrick from opining, “It’s a good step moving forward to be able to start acknowledging our languages and our people… A lot of our people live in Winnipeg.”Chief Merrick failed to mention that the province already has hundreds of indigenous place names, including “Winnipeg” and “Manitoba,” another reflection of the thousands of indigenous names all across the country.But the real reason for this change was that Roman Catholic Bishop Vital-Justin Grandin lobbied the federal government to fund the construction of residential schools in the 19th century, an effort also supported at the time by many indigenous leaders.From the late 1850s, Grandin worked tirelessly to secure funds, provisions, and supply routes for his constantly expanding missionary and welfare efforts in Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, and elsewhere.That was a time when prairie and adjoining indigenous people were suffering from a decline in traditional livelihood practices and dying in large numbers due to their lack of immunity to European contagious diseases. His efforts undoubtedly saved the lives of countless aboriginal people.Grandin became increasingly convinced of the need to transform traditional indigenous lifestyles to make them compatible with the inexorable changes wrought by a modernizing Canadian society. This led to his strong support for indigenous children gaining a basic education in suitable vocational skills. For this purpose, in 1879–80, Grandin asked the federal authorities to help by increasing grants to existing schools and orphanages and by building industrial schools.As a result of such requests by Grandin and other missionaries, the government authorized the construction of three industrial schools in the west in 1883.During all the years that Grandin oversaw these efforts, indigenous school attendance was both voluntary and eagerly sought by aboriginal parents and leaders. There is no evidence that the lives of children at these schools were harsh or oppressive, at least compared to non-indigenous boarding schools during the same era.In 1929, canonical investigations were begun for his beatification, and in 1966 he was declared venerable. In 1979, Bishop Grandin's name was given to the new road over the Red River to commemorate his good works.For all these noble efforts based on ordinary 19th and early 20th century beliefs and values, now viewed through ahistorical and temporarily trendy woke ones, Grandin has been cancelled in Winnipeg by those both implicitly and explicitly denying that Western civilization has produced some of the most stunning scientific, technological, social, cultural, and religious accomplishments and breakthroughs in human history.The irony underlying the mindless contemporary preoccupation with erasing the past resulting in Grandin’s shameful shunning is that few, if any, aboriginals would willingly revert to their full-fledged pre-industrial lifeways based on a constant and insecure struggle for survival surrounded by hostile enemies from other indigenous groups.With many examples like the Grandin one, do we need to change the names of so many parts of our country to meet the never-ending demand for empty symbolic reconciliation that would never achieve true social or economic reconciliation? This is doubtful.The most bizarre name change of all has been the ongoing effort to change Canada’s name to Turtle Island.Changing a country’s name never raised any eyebrows when it involved third world colonies transitioning to sovereignty, as occurred when many did so in sub-Saharan Africa and elsewhere after World War II. But such transformations have been virtually non-existent when it comes to first world nations. This makes it passing strange that there hasn’t been any public concern about the weird but increasingly formalized renaming of Canada to “Turtle Island.”Turtle Island is what many Algonquian and Iroquoian-speaking peoples have long called the entire continent of North America because, in various indigenous origin stories, a turtle, surrounded by water, is said to support the world.A few decades ago, Turtle Island was only used by indigenous activists and their supporters. Since then, this name has gradually gained traction without causing critical reaction from the media, governments, Canadian think tanks, or ordinary citizens.On the contrary, Canadians have been told that using Turtle Island is necessary for national reconciliation with indigenous people resulting in its formal use by universities, churches, and governments across the country. For example:In 2022, the University of Manitoba used this name for its first Indigenous Science Conference focusing on indigenous approaches to understanding the five basic elements, fire, water, earth, air, and spirit found among many Aboriginal peoples.The Anglican Diocese of Rupert’s Land is supporting a group of Indigenous and non-Indigenous parishioners that set out to develop a truly indigenous Christianity called “the Gospel of and for Turtle Island.”The Toronto Zoo has created the Turtle Island Conservation Program.Nationwide, many school boards have begun using curricula that teach students about Turtle Island.A new atlas, the Indigenous Atlas of Canada, uses Turtle Island in the text and on the maps, but not in the title of the atlas.McGill University has recently partnered with CBC to create a program called “Turtle Island Reads,” which broadcasts stories about Indigenous people by Indigenous people.The Government of Canada has a program called “Turtle Island Staffing” for several departments, National Defense, Health Canada, the RCMP, etc., that began in 2017, and has increased its funding by 84 percent over the last five years.If you consult a dictionary, you will find that the word “turtle” has Portuguese/Spanish origins, and “island” has a Middle English origin.You will also find that the first formal name for our country, Canada, comes from the word “Kanata” in the Iroquoian language, meaning “settlement” or “village.” This word has not been translated into English; it is an authentic indigenous word, though it is likely mispronounced by many indigenous people who do not speak Iroquoian.If you widen your view, you will find thousands of other names that have been respectfully borrowed from indigenous languages. Ottawa, Saskatoon, Kamloops, Inuvik and Saskatchewan come readily to mind.Thus, by referring to Canada as “Turtle Island,” we are replacing a long-standing indigenous word with a two-word name coming from European colonial languages.How could a transformation from an indigenous name to an English one ever foster reconciliation? And who ordained that Turtle Island should be considered the new name for Canada? The answers to both questions are straightforward.This name serves to privilege indigenous activists, not ordinary aboriginal people, over other Canadians who think the old name, Canada, is just fine. Indeed, most Canadians are probably unaware of the indigenous roots of the “Canada” appellation. This does not matter because the Turtle Island makeover is part of an activist powerplay, not to mention a scientific fallacy: neither Canada nor North America are islands.Unlike the imaginary “Turtle Island” one, the thousands of other name changes in recent years have all involved conversions to indigenous ones. Still, many like Abinojii Mikanah in Winnipeg have no connection to the original aboriginal name for the same locale; their sole purpose is elite virtue signalling or deliberate efforts to erase history.So why is this renaming effort increasing all the time? The simple answer is that power-hungry chauvinists have discovered that these sorts of fruitless reconciliation efforts are a financial gravy train they plan to ride for a very long time.When more ordinary Canadians and grassroots indigenous people begin to question these gratuitous efforts, they will eventually say, “Enough is enough. We want reconciliation, but we will not meet the demand for tens of millions of dollars in compensation to change the names of our country, towns, streets, roads, rivers, and lakes that will not make our lives better or bring us closer together as Canadians.”If the professional activists and their supporters keep pushing, they will further polarize Canadian citizens into indigenous vs. non-indigenous support groups. This process will not end well, especially for ordinary indigenous people. When countries collapse, as our country indeed could, it is the poor and marginalized — indigenous groups particularly — who will suffer the most.It is time to put our resources back into building a united and prosperous Canada. This nation will benefit all its citizens, not just a handful of “Turtle Island” indigenous elites and their non-indigenous sycophants.Hymie Rubenstein is a retired professor of anthropology at the University of Manitoba and the editor of REAL Indigenous Report.Rodney A. Clifton is a professor emeritus at the University of Manitoba and a senior fellow at the Frontier Centre for Public Policy. He and Mark DeWolf are the editors of From Truth Comes Reconciliation: An Assessment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report (Frontier Centre for Public Policy, 2021). A second expanded edition will be published by Southerland House Press later this year.

RUBENSTEIN/CLIFTON: Indigenous strategy, name it and claim it

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