The case in question is the class action suit against the federal government for wrongful discrimination against Indigenous children between 1991 and 2019. It is specific to what is sometimes referred to as the “millennial scoop;” the policy for Indigenous children was to separate them from their families, while willfully denying them the same medical care and social services that were afforded to the rest of the country. However, the injustice against Indigenous peoples by the Canadian government extends far beyond this case and is a much broader and long-lasting problem, as the panelists acknowledged. This class action case just happens to be one of the most recent examples of people fighting to speak out against institutional colonial violence against Indigenous communities by the government.

The panel was moderated by McGill Professor Daniel Jutras. McGill Social Work Professor Cindy Blackstock also spoke as a panelist alongside Stern. Professor Blackstock, the Executive Director of First Nations Child and Family Caring Society, was one of the driving forces behind the case. The event was opened by Sedalia Kawenno:ta’s Fazio, a Kanien’kehá:ka elder. She welcomed the attendees and organizers alike and shared the Ohén:ton Karihwatékwen prayer, which translates to “the words that come before all others.” Before sharing it in Kanien’kehá, Fazio explained the first few lines in English: “The time has come for us to bring our minds together so our minds become one.”

As she finished the prayer, Fazio stated, “The importance of this prayer is if you look around you, at everything in creation, if we lose just one of those elements […] – all we need to do is lose one element, and on Mother Earth or in Sky World, and we as human beings will not survive. But if every single human being disappeared from Mother Earth tomorrow morning, Mother Earth and Sky World would thrive. So that is the importance of giving thanks each and every day.” She then shared a welcome song, as a way of starting the event.

After a brief background on the case by Professor Jutras, the discussion got under way as Professor Blackstock and David Sterns delved into more detail. “[Canada] create[s] this illusion that they are about reconciliation,” Blackstock stated, adding that the government’s actions tell a different story. She spoke to the tendency for Canadians to pretend their government is fair and equitable, while willfully ignoring the atrocities of their own country.

“It just shows how deeply embedded in the department [of Justice]’s DNA [that] this idea of colonialism still remains,” she commented. For instance, Professor Blackstock brought up the way in which people are quick to criticize the Trump administration for separating families at the US-Mexico border. She agreed that these are certainly condemnable actions. “But we’re doing it too and we’ve been doing it longer,” Professor Blackstock stated, in reference to Canada’s long history of separating Indigenous children from their families. However, she expressed hopefulness that these issues are becoming more known to the public, adding that it’s as necessary as ever to hold the government and its policies accountable.

Professor Blackstock then gave a brief introduction as to how she became involved in the case. She described working as a social worker in British Columbia with both Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities, and being baffled by the stark inequality. “Basic life-saving things [were] denied to these kids,” she explained, describing how one child was allowed medical equipment only every five years. A couple times, the panel brought up Jordan’s Principle, a law that states no child should have to wait for treatment on account of bureaucracy, but Professor Blackstock emphasized that the law is incredibly narrow and doesn’t cover the extent of medical care denied to Indigenous children, from the smaller, everyday rights to access to life-saving equipment.

She stated that the devastation she witnessed working as a social worker, and the blatant willful callousness of the government, inspired her to seek litigation. Professor Blackstock started by bringing the issue before the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal, explaining that it seemed more accessible to a non-lawyer, like herself at the time.

The case later changed from a tribunal appeal to a class action case, when Sterns read about it in the news, and realized its potential for a class action suit. The following legal battle – which sought compensation for the staggering number of Indigenous children who were denied basic social services, and/or taken from their families for little to no reason – was made even more clouded by the Department of Justice’s tendency to “play unfairly,” as Blackstock stated.

She summed this up by stating that “it’s never been about the truth. It’s never been about the Charter. It’s always been about procedure.” Professor Blackstock described the “gamesmanship” that the government’s lawyers used, dragging out proceedings and withholding important exhibits. She recalled being stunned by the lengths to which the government would go in order to win, as they were “willing to breach the legal law in order to oppose [the claim],” in the instance of the government purposefully withholding 90,000 records.

As Professor Blackstock often reminded the attendees, the case was about atrocities committed against children, and the government’s tactics in light of this were extremely frustrating. “The Department of Justice is not always just,” she stated, concluding that “the whole system operates like a sociopath.” Though Professor Blackstock was understandably frustrated with these attempts at diversion, in the end she and her team were successful in their efforts in 2016, winning the case, as well as $40,000 in compensation for each of the victims they’d been fighting for.

But “$40,000 doesn’t even hit the bucket,” Professor Blackstock explained, suggesting that monetary compensation can be trivializing in the face of the trauma and loss that has resulted from the denial of basic rights for Indigenous children. Throughout the discussion, she often returned to the fact that this case is a small part of a much larger issue of the Canadian government willfully discriminating against Indigenous peoples. She emphasized that the problem has not only been happening for a very long time, but is ongoing, and that it’s important to remember this fact.

The discussion turned to Sterns, on the topic of the legal angle of the class action suit. Sterns was adamant that there are many possibilities for up and coming lawyers to accomplish social good. He spoke on the flexibility and potential of class action suits, and emphasized that they have the ability to bring real change and accountability. Both he and Professor Blackstock agreed that one of the factors that was key in this particular class action case was getting the attention of the media and the public, especially through television. Through these mechanisms, the panelists emphasized, the Canadian government was not just being held accountable by Blackstock, Sterns, and the rest of their team, but by the Canadian public at large.

The panel was a strong reminder of some of the injustices and systemic atrocities that the Canadian government has committed, but emphasized the work that can and should be done. Professor Blackstock, who at the time had no legal background, brought these issues to light, and won $40,000 in compensation for each of the victims. However, she emphasized that systemic discrimination against Indigenous peoples in Canada is not over. As Professor Blackstock stated, “I want to win the war, not just the battle.”

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Morrissey is an interesting example because of his utter transformation from symbol of counterculture to oppressor. It’s doubtful that in the wake of the hateful alt-right espousals of his middle age that he deserves a four page spread in Rolling Stone magazine. Morrissey’s current politics are condemnable, but does that mean that we should never listen to “Louder Than Bombs” ever again?

I’m by no means saying that The Smiths music, albeit counter-cultural and cutting edge, is always a shining example of progressive politics. But surely there are gems that don’t deserve the rubbish heap just because their front man went off the rails. Should his band mates Johnny Marr, Andy Rourk, and Mike Joyce be sent off to obscurity? And yet, why should Morrissey’s mugshot be on every hot topic T-Shirt? Even if it’s to represent some jazzy counterculture jangle like “Panic,” does his face not also represent Brexit and hate? Who’s to say? Who are we to draw the lines of censorship? Who are we not to speak out against problematic artists such as Morrissey?

Morrissey is not the only talented artist who turned into a despicable grease smudge of oppression. Dare we talk about H.P. Lovecraft’s virulent racism? And yet the peanut gallery says “he revolutionized all that’s creepy and worth living for in horror literature!” How about Dostoyevsky and his horrifying antisemitism? Kanye West’s persistent sexism and homophobia? J.K. Rowling’s transphobia? Not to mention the pages and pages of male artists who have abused and oppressed women again and again. The list goes on and on.

There is a wide range of what it means to be “problematic,” beyond simply considering art which is explicitly so. An artist’s influence goes beyond the influence of the art they produce. Thus, problematic sentiments may still have ill consequences on the lives of others, even if these ideals aren’t always apparent in their art. For instance, an artist’s interactions with fans, critics, and collaborators are just as much a part of this sphere of influence as the art itself. Considering this, it’s important to remember that fame is power: a power which has often been abused, as evident in the many testemonies of sexual assault by film producers and directors.

Already, a robust discussion about the place of art which is explicitly oppressive yet still somehow manages to accrue a league of defenders (for instance, some of the bafflingly controversial stand-up comedy) has been entertained. There’s been plenty of discussion about the so called “cancel culture,” a loaded term implying that art should somehow be immune to political criticism. All art is political, and the message that you put forth is always going to be a risk, and by its very nature should be scrutinized critically. But there’s a certain grey area in talking about the intersection between art and politics, where the personal lives of artists, which may seem to be completely separate from their actual art, cannot help but attract attention for all the gasps of horror that they may ensue. So the question I would like to ask is: when these hidden personal lives become problematic, does this affect our perception of the artist’s creation? Should an artist’s lifestyle and political choices outside of their art production still be considered? Is it ever possible to sever the two?

When I was in grade school, I idolized Keith Moon, the chaotic drummer of British Rock band, The Who. I read his extensive biography, hanging on every word of the biographer, Toni Fletcher. While reading it, I came to the overall conclusion that Keith Moon was a complex and ultimately problematic person, namely in the fact that he was abusive to his wife. And yet, I still consider his drumming skills to be some of the best. I didn’t stop listening to The Who, or even for that matter telling people what a talented drummer Keith Moon was, just because of this newfound information about his personal life; and yet, is there not some value to having a nuanced view of celebrities in recognizing their faults as well as their skills? Unadulterated idolization never did anyone any good, surely. But what about the shadow that such information casts as well? How could I ignore the information of the abuse and trauma that Moon caused to some of those around him, and still enjoy the band’s music? Was it somehow worse to willfully ignore these faults now that I was aware, and continue to espouse the praise of the band?

I still don’t have any easy answers to these questions. On the one hand, I do truly enjoy the music that The Who created, and I doubt, for nostalgic reasons, as well as personal taste, that I will ever stop listening to their music. But the fact is that celebrities and artists are public figures, and have massive influence on the way the larger schema of culture tends to shift. It seems somehow perverse for me to enjoy Keith Moon’s drumming, even though there is no correlation between his skill as a musician and the treatment of his wife. And it was never easy to separate the art and the artist, regardless of whether there is a problem. I’m not inclined to say “Oh, the drumming on that track is particularly good.” Rather, I’d say, “Wow, Keith Moon is really something,” because it feels more satisfying and fulfilling to our want of human connection to assign a face and a name to art which invokes such human responses.

So, how can one be justified in ignoring an artists’ personal life?

It might be worth while making a distinction between the mistakes of artists of the past from those that are still alive. Partially because they live(d) in different contexts, and also because artists of the present still have a chance to change for the better. In terms of art of the past, perhaps the best method is to educate ourselves as best we can, and acknowledge an artist’s faults with their skills. In addressing the so called “canon” of often problematic creative types preserved from the past, I highly doubt that anyone is going to stop teaching Dostoyevsky and Shakespeare in literature classes, even though some of their views are outdated. Some may even argue that it is this “outdatedness” which serves as a discussion point on how we have and still can improve in our social conscientiousness as a literary and artistic culture. It doesn’t pay to ignore these problems in lieu of their talents for fear of losing a critical eye or seeming indifferent to the possibility of offense. Or worse, that these ideas might be adopted as justification for modern day reiterations of the same types of oppression. But these faults that seem so common in the so-called “classics” are also why it pays to deviate from the canon and see what other works may have to offer: a different view-point of a past era, and perhaps a viewpoint that is less hateful.

When addressing contemporary, living artists who have problematic personal lives, the situation becomes interesting. After all, if they are alive and have made mistakes, they still have a chance to redeem themselves and learn from their mistakes. This doesn’t always happen of course, but it is all the more reason why it’s worthwhile to recognize these mistakes. After all, these are the people who define our popular culture, and if we are ever to improve, then that is a good place to start being critical.

What’s more, real estate on the pop cultural consciousness is so incredibly valuable, that as consumers of culture, we need to be cognizant of who we are granting it to, as well as who we may be excluding in our choices. While a certain level of due process and forgiveness to the complexities of humanity is a decent trait, I believe that it’s important to ask ourselves if there isn’t someone else who would do a better job posing as this decade’s artistic darling (and by better job, I mean someone who isn’t woefully problematic). All artistic fields are inherently competitive, which means that there is almost certainly a less problematic, but equally talented artist who deserves our attention just as much, if not more so. We, as consumers, have a hidden power over who “makes it” in the art world and who doesn’t. We need to be conscious of our ability to shape our culture. Our artistic idols define who we are as a society, and thus, in order to ever grow and become more conscientious, it’s important to have the full picture, and treat that picture with a critical eye to the subtleties of art and the social.

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The other allusion to homosexuality takes even more imagination to examine, but leads to no less interesting conclusions about what the film is trying to do. Roy Batty, the leader of the rebellious replicants, shouts something off handedly to Rick on the infamous Bradbury building chase scene: “Straight doesn’t seem to be good enough!” It seems that he is referring to Rick Deckard’s bad aim as he tries to kill Roy. Taken as a double entendre for sexual orientation, could it be a criticism of Rick’s choices to adhere to the system? The default? This remark, tossed out with all the taunting witticism and joie de vivre that Roy brings to this sequence, surely has many meanings. Besides simply criticizing Rick’s inability as a cop, it also mocks him as being perhaps straight laced and rule abiding. It might also be a general remark to Rick’s lame existence. To contrast the two characters in this scene, it becomes uncertain as to who is the one on the run, and who is doing the chasing; their respective purposes are ambiguous. Roy is trying to stay alive, but he is also trying to teach Rick a lesson in living life to its fullest. Is it so far a stretch to say that he is trying to coax Rick to renounce heterosexuality and the “norm” as well?

Rick by contrast, is just trying to get a job done. Roy, running around in nothing but his underwear, howling like a werewolf, is living and feeling. Rick, with his broken fingers and rain drenched coat is miserable. Rick is outshadowed by Roy in his ability to live life to its fullest, despite the tragedy he has endured. As viewers, we know that he has lost all five members of his rebellion, most recently with the especially gruesome slaughter of Priss. Is this a call out to straight members of society who willfully ignore LGBTQ+ counterculture in both its cultural creations and the tragedies imposed by the conventional world?

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“We have a few cases of students that showed some concerns,” Dean Rassier added that they “have contacted some specific schools” to ensure a safe environment for students in their placements. Just recently, a Francophone school board in Montreal refused to hire two teachers because they were wearing religious symbols.

Senate then addressed a motion to cancel classes on September 27 from 11:35 a.m. – 3:55 p.m., put forth in order to accommodate any students who planned to participate in the climate strike. Senator Wilson advocated in favour of the motion, saying that “to cancel classes would symbolize a clear stance on behalf of McGill with regards to the matter of climate justice.” Out of the four post-secondary institutions in Montreal – Concordia University, UQÀM, Université de Montreal, and McGill University – McGill is the only to not have canceled classes.

Dean Buddle failed to mention whether McGill would be giving up something of its own – perhaps its $1.3-billion endowment fund of fossil-fuel investments.

However, Dean of Students Christopher Buddle disagreed with the motion to cancel classes, contending that “the decision is not simple despite the magnitude of the problem of climate change.”

In response to Senator Wilson’s statement that numerous other Quebec universities have canceled classes, Dean Buddle went on to add that McGill is “ by no means […] obliged to follow other institutions; we do what is right for us and we lead by our example.”

With regards to the University’s moral stance, he stated that McGill “lead[s] by the principles that actually Greta Thunberg put forward which says strikes, by their very nature, are rebellious, and you have to give up something for impact.” However, Dean Buddle failed to mention whether McGill would be giving up something of its own – perhaps its $1.3-billion endowment fund of fossil-fuel investments.

“I will say that this has nothing to do with my commitment to climate action,” Dean Buddle stated, noting the personal decisions he makes with regards to environmental justice. He then added that he did not believe Senate to be the right place to bring up matters of class cancellations. Buddle seemed to imply that students needed to sacrifice their grades and studies, in order to make their point. “I actually don’t love the fact that we’re seeing widespread cancellation, because that’s not giving up something,” he stated. “I’ve been involved in many social justice movements in my life.”

“I think we have to make a decision as an institution – are we on the side of the people who are rebelling against this, or are we aligning ourselves with the institutions that are maintaining the status quo and asking the young people to do the heavy lifting of rebelling?” – Senator Nystrom

In response, Senator Nystrom told the Senate he agreed “this kind of activism requires a sacrifice,” but disagreed with Dean Buddle’s sentiments.

“I just don’t think we should just be asking young people to make that sacrifice, whereas we do not,” he stated, adding that climate change was mostly the fault of their generation as well as previous generations. “I think to turn to the young people and say ‘this is all on you’ – well, it’s already all on them. They’re the ones who are going to have to live with the consequences,” Senator Nystrom told the Senate.

“I think we have to make a decision as an institution – are we on the side of the people who are rebelling against this, or are we aligning ourselves with the institutions that are maintaining the status quo and asking the young people to do the heavy lifting of rebelling?”

As the debate ended, the motion was called to a vote. Out of the 111 eligible voting members of the Senate, only 21 voted in favour of canceling classes. The 21 votes in favour of the motion mostly consisted of student members; the motion failed with the majority voting against it.

Next, Associate Provost (Equity and Academic Policies) Angela Campbell presented the annual report on McGill’s Policy on Harassment & Discrimination Prohibited by Law. The report outlines the procedures for reporting harassment, as well as the official definitions of “harassment” and “discrimination prohibited by law.” The report also includes details about workshops and training that happened in the last year, which aim to prevent and address these issues.

Associate Provost Campbell started by quoting some of the statistical details from last year’s report, specifically noting the significant increase in harassment complaints. However, 89 per cent of all cases of harassment stopped at the inquiry stage. Specifically regarding cases of sexual harassment, she noted that they all involved the harassment of women, perpetrated by men. Out of these five specific cases of sexual harassment, four were deemed to be founded. However, out of the 12 cases investigated (not under the category of sexual harassment), none were deemed to be founded in the past year. In response, Senator Buraga asked Associate Provost Campbell why she thought there was an increase. Senator Campbell expressed her hopes that the increase in reporting could be attributed to an increase in awareness about reporting channels and the procedures available.

Deputy Provost Labeau told the Senate, “resilience is a skill you can learn.” Any mention of what’s being done to help students with existing mental illnesses and health issues remained sparse.

Deputy Provost (Student Life and Learning) Fabrice Labeau also discussed the state of student mental health services, under the purview of the Committee on Student Services. He emphasized the impact of academic stress on student mental health and the need to revise McGill’s Assessment Policy. Senator Eperjesi asked for an elaboration on these efforts to address mental health, to which Deputy Provost Labeau reiterated the issue of academic stress, and pointed to the Wellness Hub as a way to help manage it. Characterized as a means for “healthy living training,” he described the Hub’s role as providing “early intervention and prevention of mental health issues.” Deputy Provost Labeau told the Senate, “resilience is a skill you can learn.” Any mention of what’s being done to help students with existing mental illnesses and health issues remained sparse.

Finally, Associate Provost Campbell presented the annual report of the Joint Board Senate Committee on Equity. SSMU Arts Senator Chloe Kemeni posed the question of whether the budget of $1000 for the Senate Sub-Committee on Racialized and Ethnic Persons would be increased in the future. In the report, the subcommittee stated that the current funding “is not a sustainable situation, and more funding should be provided to finance activities that support the McGill community, such as is done for other groups like Management Forum.” To name a few of these projects that are underfunded, they include inviting guest speakers to campus and developing a program for racialized student support. In response, Associate Provost Campbell stated that future increases in funding were unclear.

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The panel proceeded from Saylor’s welcome into a chance for Horn and Williams to share their knowledge and experiences. Horn started by contrasting traditional Indigenous approaches to birth with the realities of giving birth today. Historically, she told the audience, birth was a multi-generational community event. Elder generations provided support and experience, and younger women used it as a learning opportunity. In her presentation, Horn questioned the modern “dissociation from this process until we are actually in it.” This “disassociation” makes the birthing process more stressful than necessary, aggravating depression and anxieties. Adding to this, many Indigenous women are forced to travel long distances in order to reach a hospital. And although rural Indigenous communities may have a clinic, they are often deemed insufficient, and pregnant women are strongly encouraged to travel to larger cities. Both Horn and Williams underscored the trauma of having to give birth in a strange hospital, without the comfort of one’s community. In stark contrast to the traditions of familial support, oftentimes, only one relative is able to join the mother – if at all.

What Horn and Williams are both doing, within each of their communities, is a start at providing additional birthing options and support to Indigenous women. In this vein, Horn spoke of creating solidarity amongst the few Indigenous practitioners of medicine. Similarly, Williams’ work within the Indigenous Birth Keepers Group is a way to provide support and reclaim tradition. Through the group, expecting parents can access doulas, who provide emotional and spiritual support, both during and after pregnancy. There are also parenting and childcare programs available, as well as the chance for new parents to connect with elders in the community.

Horn then mentioned some of the alarming statistics regarding birth and pregnancy within Indigenous communities. According to the National Collaborating Center for Aboriginal Health, Indigenous mothers are disproportionately affected by premature and stillborn births. This may be attributed to toxic pollution and insufficient access to proper nutrition – a part of the larger, structural mistreatment of Indigenous communities. The systemic exclusion of Indigenous people in medical studies only worsens the problem. But Horn also reminded the audience that as troubling as these facts are, this negative lens provided by mainstream media is not the only narrative.

On a positive note, the rate of breastfeeding among Indigenous communities is on the rise. Due to the institutional and historic separation of Indigenous women and their children, traditional practices of caring for children after birth have been disrupted. Macleans reports that as part of forced assimilation in the early 1900s, the Canadian government started making Indigenous women travel to federally-operated hospitals, disrupting various birthing traditions such as the inclusion of extended family members. But according to the 2018 Quebec First Nations Regional Health Survey, more than half of First Nations children between ages zero to five are now being breastfed, compared to less than 40 per cent of children in 2008. Breastfeeding has numerous positive benefits for babies, such as the development of motor, intellectual, social, and emotional abilities, per the report.

There have been numerous efforts from Indigenous advocates across the country to provide new mothers with more resources and opportunities to embrace traditions historically denied them by the impositions of the colonial government. At Kateri Memorial Hospital in Kahnawake, Vanessa Rice has been a breastfeeding support worker for the past two decades, starting to work with new mothers in the 24 to 28 hours after birth. In a 2018 article, Rice tells CBC, “Having the support as soon as moms come home with their baby, I think that’s what makes their breastfeeding journey very successful. Peer support is what is in demand and what has been happening in our community.” And in Manitoba, the Manitoba Indigenous Doula Initiative was recently founded, providing women with during and post-birth traditions, such as the placenta ceremony.

Speaking on this, Horn explained to the audience, “there are a lot of those outcomes that we know anecdotally, but we don’t necessarily have the research to back [them] up.”

Williams recounted her experiences as a doula as incredibly varied. She emphasized how every mother is different – a reality that is unfortunately often overlooked. There is a problematic tendency, she says, to generalize within dialogues about Indigenous communities. It’s critical to remember that “Indigenous” is a very broad term, and that each community has different practices and traditions. Within these communities, Williams says, each mother and family will have different outlooks, personal histories, and levels of comfort and desires. Part of her job as a doula is to listen to the mothers and provide them with the best possible experience. This may vary from seeing them through a traditional home-birth with a midwife, to trying to make a birth in a hospital more comfortable. She doesn’t think of this sort of community-oriented approach to birth as work. To her, “it’s out of love, and it’s just from the heart.”

Finally, Horn explained her own personal journey and change in approach to medicine throughout her career. Despite some initial skepticism as a young medical practitioner, she summed up her reconciliation of the importance of tradition: “our stories may not necessarily be rooted in science, but at least they’re giving our women their cultural knowledge.” It is this cultural knowledge that supports and rebuilds communities, while reclaiming the process of life.

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