The Dominion - sovereignty

The "Trade" Agreement Ottawa and Nova Scotia Want Kept Secret

Martin Lukacs — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 09:06:28 +0000

Packed room hears Canada-Europe trade negotiations denounced

HALIFAX—A standing-room-only crowd packed a Halifax meeting room on a summer night to hear about a secret.

Two national speakers, Maude Barlow of the Council of Canadians and Canadian Union of Public Employees (CUPE) President Paul Moist, provided a harrowing account of the Harper government's "trade" negotiations with Europe that they said will transfer decision-making power from local governments to multinational corporations.

The vehicle for this wholesale corporate power grab is the Comprehensive Economic and Trade Agreement (CETA), said the speakers.

Unlike the earlier Free Trade Agreement and North American Free Trade Agreement, CETA would reach into provincial and municipal policy-making and purchasing, Moist said. It would seriously threaten local job creation and "Buy-Local" policies; it would encourage privatization of Canada's drinking water and waste-water services (no matter what local citizens wanted); and it would cause prescription drug costs to skyrocket by at least $2.8 billion per year.

CETA is essentially a corporate bill of rights which puts companies and their profits first and the wishes of local citizens last, said Barlow. For example, European corporations could seek compensation for business lost as a result of any government regulation or policy. This includes banning a carcinogenic additive to gasoline (this has already happened under existing "trade" deals) or paying millions to a pulp and paper company that abandoned Newfoundland and Labrador.

"We have nothing against trading with Europe and much of our trade is now free or becoming free of tariffs," said Moist. "But this deal goes well beyond trade issues into interfering with how local people can make decisions about how to run their communities."

A Nova Scotia speaker, Mark Austin, Executive Director of the Rural and Coast Communities Network, added a number of concerns. "This deal has huge implications for Nova Scotia, particularly rural areas, yet we have heard nothing about it," Austin said. It would likely result in overfishing, and would threaten food sovereignty through attacks on agricultural policies such as farm marketing boards, he added.

And buy-local initiatives, like one Austin is involved with in Truro, could become impossible.

"While there might be small short-term gains in trade with Europe, you have to give up control of your long-term local economic prospects. It's like the Canucks playing in Boston—you can score one goal, but you have to give up five."

CUPE Nova Scotia President Danny Cavanagh, who chaired Tuesday's event, said CETA negotiations would resume in Brussels on July 10. Prime Minister Harper hopes to sign a completed deal by the end of the year. Premier Darrell Dexter and other provincial premiers, who also need to sign off on the deal, are part of Canada's little-publicized discussions.

Barlow said that while it may be unrealistic to expect a provincial government not to sign the agreement, she hopes that public pressure motivates premiers to drive a harder bargain and seek exemptions from the most damaging aspects of the currently proposed deal.

Despite the devastating potential impact, the speakers noted that the Nova Scotia government has done nothing to alert citizens of what is at stake. Moist said that the Nova Scotia and Manitoba governments have agreed to talk in private with CUPE and the Council of Canadians research staff about the negotiations, but no consultations with the general public are planned.

The European Parliament receives regular status reports in public on the CETA negotiations, Moist said. "Why can't Canadians get such reports?"

Dartmouth MP Robert Chisholm, the federal NDP trade critic, was at the meeting, as was Halifax NDP MP Megan Leslie. No provincial politicians attended.

"It's not too late to stop the deal," Barlow said.

The speaking event was part of a national campaign entitled, "Canadian communities are not for sale.” More information is available as part of a “CETA toolkit” at http://cupe.ca/ceta, or at www.canadians.org.

This article was originally published with the Halifax Media Co-op.

Jim Guild, of Halifax, recently retired from a staff rep. position with the NS Government and General Employees Union (NSGEU) and has been active of late with the Halifax Media Co-op.

Barlow CETA2

Every Mohawk a Suspect

Martin Lukacs — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 06:08:35 +0000

Why drugs raids in Kanehsatake feel like police invasions

KANEHSATAKE—“You didn’t see anything?” my neighbour asks.

Apparently, another big police raid is taking place. We stop to listen for a second but hear nothing. Nobody phoned. I hadn’t listened to the radio all morning. I’ve been mowing the lawn. I haven’t seen or heard anything unusual. I haven’t seen a single police car.

Looking up, we hear a helicopter. It doesn’t sound like a police chopper. We’ve learned to distinguish the sounds of military, police and civilian helicopters.

“It looks more like a news chopper,” I say.

My neighbour says news reports estimated that a combined force of 500 police officers were raiding Kanehsatake. We agree that a drug raid is long overdue, but we question the numbers and the need for such massive raids. The numbers imply a ratio of about one cop for every three Mohawks—man, woman and child—living at Kanehsatake.

My neighbour tells me the police hit a well-known drug joint in the Pines. “Lots of people go in and out of that place all the time,” she says, “and everyone knows why.”

That phrase gets lots of mileage at Kanehsatake. Everyone knows who’s into cocaine, and who’s dealing oxycontin to kids at the high school in full sight of the band office. Everyone knows who’s selling weapons, booze, and pills. Everyone knows where the pushers of hard drugs live. Everyone knows but few do or say anything until it affects them or their immediate family. Otherwise, most people mumble and complain.

The police arrest eight people at Kanehsatake this time, including an elderly mother. She had the bad luck of being at her son’s house when the police came to arrest him. The police, though, give reporters the name of only one of the arrested: 43-year-old Tyrone Canatoguin.

Because "everyone knows," everyone also has suspicions about this raid. Rumour has it that someone flipped. Everyone knows there’s competition between a few individuals, and possibly their families, over drug dealing. Rumour has it someone, perhaps someone facing jail time, cut a deal in exchange for reduced charges. Rumour also has it that the raid presented a chance for this individual to use the police to take out the competition.

None of that is reported by the news media for several reasons. First, rumours are almost impossible to verify. Second, most Mohawks won’t go on the record, especially to the Montreal-based media. They blame reporters for demonizing their community with sensational, superficial and negative coverage. Third, most reporters don’t look beyond “officials” for comment, as though average Mohawks have nothing relevant to say. Most reporters are fixated on confrontations between the Mohawk and police and everything else gets in the way of “the story”—a story that Mohawks feel has already been written.

Reporters don’t look for other stories or spend much time at Kanehsatake. They arrive when the police raids happen, and leave after they get the story they want. Reporters may not have the time to look deeper into the story. Certainly, most newsrooms are understaffed and reporters stretched too thin. They may also lack basic journalistic curiosity or interest in Indigenous issues, or maybe they’re satisfied to confirm Mohawks as fundamentally criminal, and to reinforce those stereotypes. Harsh? Not really, given the stories I read after a raid.

Newscasts on the morning of June 14 put 500 police at Kanehsatake even though there are raids taking place at Akwesasne, Oka and villages in the southern Laurentians. The numbers just don’t add up. The next day many news-sites, newscasts, and newspapers still put 500 police at Kanehsatake. It takes a small community paper, L’Echo de St. Eustache, to ask a simple question and get a more realistic number: 200. This helps explain why some people hardly noticed the June 14 raid at Kanehsatake.

Almost no context accompanies the stories after the raid. Reporters re-jig Surete du Quebec (SQ) handouts, quote police spokespeople and "balance" those with quotes from Mohawk band councillors. Police are portrayed as wary but professional, putting on brave faces while enduring insults. Reporters portray themselves in much the same way, especially after a La Presse reporter is spit on. Not a single story, however, questions the methods, the cost, the effectiveness or the impact of the raid on ordinary people living at Kanehsatake.

Do such raids instill confidence or fear in the police? Consider how police conduct drug raids elsewhere. They obtain warrants naming specific individuals. They isolate the address specified in the warrant. They execute the warrant with a minimum of inconvenience to the neighbourhood. Even during raids in a small village similar in population to Kanehsatake, police are careful not to disrupt daily life in the community. Often, the police alert the media beforehand so they can transmit the proper message: crime doesn’t pay.

A raid at Kanehsatake is different. The whole community—on every junction of every road—has a police roadblock. All Mohawks are considered suspect and potentially dangerous. This explains why the police presence is massive. There may be helicopters with snipers hovering overhead. The disruption to the community is huge.

Maybe the police get a kick out of these raids—the big operation, the cute title and all the big shiny toys they can muster. It may make them feel a lot safer. But imagine what it’s like from the inside when hundreds of heavily-armed people in uniforms move into your community and treat you like an inmate in a penal colony. The fact is that the majority of people at Kanehsatake don’t commit crimes, don’t own weapons, don’t do drugs. They might go a little over the speed limit every now and then, but they don’t deserve to be treated like criminals.

May of 2009 was the last “raid” in Kanehsatake. It was more like an invasion. It stretched over several days and involved a combined force of about 300 SQ and RCMP officers, dozens of squad cars and large SUVs speeding up and down the territory. A helicopter provided air cover while a police boat patrolled the Ottawa River. An armoured personnel carrier was on hand. Police arrested 12 Mohawks that time, although one escaped from the back seat of a police car, barefoot and handcuffed.

I described that drug raid as an “invasion”—a hugely expensive and wasteful farce. After several days, numerous searches and what must have cost several hundreds of thousands of dollars per day, the police confiscated about 100 tomato plants. Reporters came for the first day but decided there wasn’t anything newsworthy in the days after. Not a single mainstream reporter questioned the conduct of that raid—then, or since.

One woman felt her house shudder from a low-flying helicopter. Looking out a window, she saw a police chopper hovering above roof-level with snipers hanging out the side hatches, weapons pointed at her home and others nearby. Luckily, her children were at school. A few other people reported similar experiences. It made people wonder how the police get their information, what judges require from the police to obtain warrants for raids at Kanehsatake, whether the warrants are executed properly and if civil and human rights are different when it comes to Mohawks.

Plausible rumours after each raid have a long shelf life and wide distribution on the Rez. There’s also little effort to dispel rumours because there aren’t many credible or reliable sources of information at Kanehsatake. There are no local newspapers or other forms of independent journalism. People have few chances to meet, discuss or debate local issues. So the community lives on rumours.

Official sources of information, such as the police, governments, and Montreal newspapers, have little credibility among Mohawks. The police and governments play up their seeming infallibility while depending upon ugly attitudes about Indians in general and Mohawks specifically to justify their actions. To them, this is a problem community that they wish would just go away. As a result, they don’t get involved in working with the community toward long-term solutions, and instead use short-term thinking and flashy, expensive, and ultimately useless raids over and over again. It’s progress in reverse.

The mainstream media seem to share the attitudes of governments and police about Mohawks at Kanehsatake. So they don’t waste a lot of time questioning authorities about strategy or tactics. One can almost hear the sighs from newsrooms and the plaintive whine from reporters begging not to be sent on this never-ending story. As a result, little is done to offset sensational and superficial media coverage often driven by and reinforcing negative Mohawk stereotypes.

Of course, stereotypes go both ways. Mohawks don’t trust, like or respect the SQ or the RCMP because of past confrontations. Police are not seen as people trying to help but uniforms with weapons. On the other hand, the police haven’t tried much to build trust. Stories abound on the Rez about the SQ laughing at Mohawks trying to file complaints for assault or attacks on property, only to be told much later that their complaints don’t exist or are missing.

Mohawks at Kanehsatake may trust the Aboriginal Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit even less. The A-CFSEU is a collection of native constables drafted from reserve police forces across the province. The federal and provincial governments first tried this type of combined native force at Kanehsatake in 2004. It didn’t work.

Former chief councillor James Gabriel fired his own Mohawk police force and dismantled the community police board. He didn’t trust his own cops to "weed out the organized crime that has infiltrated our community." Gabriel then hired about 40 Native constables from across Quebec and brought back a former chief of police that the community despised.

In a 2004 Maclean’s magazine article, Gabriel explained his reasoning.

After 1990, he claims, some Mohawks turned the political and legal vacuum to their advantage. "They got organized during the cigarette contraband era," Gabriel says, referring to the period when name-brand Canadian cigarettes exported to the US were brought clandestinely back and sold tax-free in Mohawk villages. "They developed trade routes, evasion tactics," Gabriel charges. "When tax rollbacks killed the cigarette trade, they recycled into booze, drugs, weapons, illegal immigrants, anything with a cash value."

Given Gabriel's statement, it’s understandable why many people on the Rez became convinced that Gabriel wanted to eliminate all of the smoke shacks at Kanehsatake. Such statements might have played well with outside governments, police and media but it set off alarms inside Kanehsatake. People feared Gabriel intended to use this private army to attack not only crime and dope dealers but his personal and political opponents as well.

The tobacco shacks that lined Route 344 just west of Oka were an economic shot in the arm where there had been almost no growth for decades despite a booming population. The shacks brought in money and created jobs. For many owners of those shacks, it meant new homes, a new car, a chance to pay bills or set up a small business. For those they hired to work in the shacks, it meant a job at home with decent pay instead of commuting or moving to Montreal. There were political implications too because, for the first time in a long time, a growing part of the community was no longer dependent upon, and dictated by, the band council.

Some of the money generated by the tobacco trade began to stick around Kanehsatake. In the past, money—usually in federal grants—would flow through the band office and almost immediately to outside businesses such as those in Oka. Now, there was a growing economy in Kanehsatake. Outside governments and police might not have liked it, they may have even wanted to eliminate the tobacco trade altogether, but they would have had to acknowledge that the entrepreneurial smoke shacks were creating a local economy where none existed before.

There were downsides too. Some parents worried that their children were quitting school to work at these shacks—not exactly a stable career choice. Other parents worried that sitting behind a counter all day didn’t instill in children the same work ethic as their ancestors had. Many parents recognized to some extent that the tobacco trade might end someday if the police and governments had their way.

People also began hearing rumours that some shacks were dealing drugs, weapons and booze. Parents worried that their children might be involved. Sadly, some other parents even encouraged their children to participate and take advantage of the “legal vacuum” that James Gabriel described.

At least that’s what everyone says because everyone knows.

Gabriel’s hired guns drove into the Kanehsatake police station in early January 2004. The reaction to the sudden arrival of foreign cops—Algonquin, Cree, Innu and Mi’kmaq—was swift and angry. They were quickly hemmed in by dozens of angry Mohawks. After a few days, they had to be rescued by Kahnawake’s Mohawk Peacekeepers. An angry mob then marched to Gabriel’s house, burned it down and drove him into exile. Gabriel’s force of Native constables spent the next few months collecting salaries doing nothing, sitting in their vehicles outside the territory.

Safety and security within the community went downhill ever since, coming to a head in 2009. Several people had nearly been killed in a series of violent incidents involving a specific group of men and women. People started calling them a gang. People began to organize their own self-defense groups and community meetings. At these meetings, people condemned police inaction and the band council’s willful blindness to this group’s violence. They began to demand the option of banishment. The band council was forced to meet with the community.

At a meeting in January 2010, the band council said it was working with the SQ to gather complaints including assault, arson and dope dealing. The council assured people they could lodge charges “anonymously” with the band council, which would then file them with the SQ. Of course, that wasn’t possible—legally—but no-one challenged the chief councillor, Paul Nicholas.
The band council also promised to seek legal opinions on banishment, safety and security and formation of its own police force. It promised to report its findings and decisions to the community within a month. Three months later, at a second community meeting, the band council said it was still studying these issues and would convene a meeting “within three weeks.” Since then, more than a year later, not a peep from the band council about any of these topics has been heard. It’s something the present band council hopes people forget as the community heads into elections this summer to choose a new council.

By now, you’ve figured out that Kanehsatake is a community going nowhere fast. Things are put off by the band council either because it’s incompetent and unable to deal with the issues, or it’s handcuffed by government policies and unable to do anything to effect change. Either way, nothing gets done.

The massive raids are merely a symptom of more fundamental problems that don’t or shouldn’t involve the police except as a partner with Mohawks in the community. Policing that doesn’t involve the community, that doesn’t reflect the will of the majority of people, just won’t work. It never has and never will—anywhere.

But giving Mohawks control over policing will take a leap of faith by all parties: the federal and provincial governments, the SQ and RCMP, and most importantly, the Mohawks at Kanehsatake. Individual Mohawks are frustrated that they’ve expressed over and over a wish to be involved. Federal and provincial officials have attended community meetings where speaker after speaker demanded to know why their governments were prepared to spend millions treating them like criminals but nothing to identify and address the root issues that provide the perfect environment for such behaviour.

For a long time, people in the community have been asking—demanding—change, and for some body to act. The band council is useless. Government bureaucrats listen but do nothing. Police seem to like the big show of strength. And the mainstream media puts out the same-old instead of trying to understand why Kanehsatake is in a downward spiral.

Somebody, I fear, is going to get killed, but that won't spark change or interest. I suspect it'll be seen as yet more evidence that Kanehsatake is a basket case and that Mohawks are destined to be hoodlums. In short, a painful reminder that Kanehsatake deserves nothing but the status quo.

Dan David is a printer, inker, drinker, stinker. He is Mohawk from Kanehsatake, and has been a journalist for more than 30 years.

SQ in Kanehsatake

From Ski Hills to the Summit

dru — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 05:09:22 +0000

Indigenous activists challenge Canada’s claims to traditional lands

VANCOUVER—“Recovery and New Beginnings” is the slogan Canada will be pushing at the G20 summit in Toronto, but for many Indigenous people, what’s going on inside the meeting represents more of the same.

Activists like Arthur Manuel of the Secwepemc Nation think the impacts of a Canada-hosted summit are clear.

“The G8/G20 impacts Indigenous people because Canada, who’s hosting the session, is actually claiming they have 100 per cent exclusive power, jurisdiction, authority over Aboriginal and treaty territories, and that’s totally wrong,” he said.

Manuel and others will be working to ensure that the illegitimacy of the G20, and the Canadian government’s ongoing denial of Indigenous sovereignty, take centre stage during the meetings.

What is Defenders of the Land?

In a declaration entitled, “Tell the world the truth about Canada’s record on Indigenous rights!”, the Defenders of the Land, a network of Indigenous communities and activists, is appealing for a “cross-Canada day of non-violent action” on June 24, timed to coincide with the opening of the G20 summit in Toronto.

According to the declaration, actions could include “blockades, occupations, rallies, or economic disruptions, in addition to spiritual ceremonies and community gatherings, all of which maximize respect for life and our rights as Indigenous Peoples.”

First Nations signed on include the Algonquins of Barriere Lake in Quebec, the Ardoch Algonquin and Big Trout Lake in Ontario, and the Carrier Sekani Tribal Council, which represents eight communities in the central interior of British Columbia.

They aim to draw attention to what they say is the Canadian government’s “continued policy...to terminate Indian Peoples by removing our land and resource base and denying us the right to self-determination.”

Canada, alongside New Zealand, Australia and the United States, were the only countries to vote against the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in 2007. Australia reversed its position last year and was recently followed by New Zealand, which declared its support at the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues in New York on April 19. The next day, Washington’s UN Ambassador Susan Rice announced the United States would review its opposition.

In his Speech from the Throne in March, Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper indicated the Conservative Government might give “qualified recognition” to the UN Declaration, which critics argue would drastically limit its full implementation.

During the national day of action, Defenders of the Land will demand the Canadian government adopt and implement the UN Declaration, recognize Indigenous land rights, stop criminalizing Indigenous human rights activists, and investigate and take action to end the murder and disappearance of hundreds of Indigenous women (582 since 1974, by the latest count of the Native Women’s Association of Canada).

—Martin Lukacs

From climate change to Indigenous rights, the government of Canada lags far behind.

The G8 is a power play by participating countries, said Ben Powless, a Mohawk from Six Nations who works with the Indigenous Environmental Network. “It’s an effort to try and get out of their international obligations in terms of the [United Nations] and in terms of their own actual moral and legal responsibilities to the people most impacted by their decisions.”

Manuel and Powless are part of a push to bring Indigenous resistance to the international, macroeconomic level. Both are involved with Defenders of the Land, a national-level organization that attempts to bring together a national response to Indigenous struggles that are often isolated and fragmented.

“The AFN [Assembly of First Nations] has already tried to deal with all these issues, and so have all the provincial, territorial and tribal organizations,” said Manuel. “They’ve all written their letters, they’ve all had their resolutions, but the government doesn’t respond to it. The Defenders is just another added level of reaction that is coming from a body that isn’t really controlled through any sort of government-type funding,” he said.

The AFN and the territorial and tribal organizations receive yearly core and project funding from the federal government.

“But I don’t think Defenders in itself is adequate. I think the real answer is the local people have to get involved, local people have to take action on the ground and force the federal government and the provincial government to change basic fundamental policy,” said Manuel.

This push for bottom-up action is a concerted, purposeful response to the top-down, undemocratic powers exercised by the G20.

“Right now all of the major economic decisions are top-down; that’s what the G8/G20 is all about,” said Manuel. “All the top dogs get together, and they make decisions in private meetings. And the decisions float down—which is wrong. One of the things about Aboriginal treaty rights is that it’s a very bottom-up kind of approach, especially vis-a-vis the G20.”

Manuel emphasized that non-Native support for Indigenous struggle is not only possible, but also an effective way to push back against corporate power.

“The real thing for Canadian people to realize is that Indigenous people are really the only ones who have a legitimate interest in pushing back government and pushing back industry, and you can tell that just by the court decisions that Indian people have won,” he said. “If Canadians can understand that, that’s how they can counterbalance big companies: by supporting Indigenous people, and the recognition of Aboriginal treaty rights—as opposed to just leaving it up to the government. If you leave it up to the government then you’re endorsing the top-down approach.”

While 2010 is the second time Canada has hosted the Winter Olympics and the G8 in a single year, it is the first time anti-capitalist and anti-colonial movements will converge on both events.

For those who were part of the anti-Olympics convergence in Vancouver, the G8/G20 protests in Ontario mark the next step forward.

“The step forward I want to take from anti-Olympics organizing is from here to Toronto,” said Lyn Highway, a community organizer in Vancouver. “Convergences are places where Indigenous resistance can connect with other anti-capitalist resistance.”

For Highway, being able to work on an autonomous action and also plug into legal and media infrastructure set up as part of the convergence, was one of the key successes of the anti-Olympics convergence.

“The anti-globalization movement never really mobilized Native people in North America, although there were large numbers involved in Mexico and South America,” said Gord Hill, an artist from the Kwakwaka’wakw nation involved in anti-Olympics organizing. But he thinks many Native people were encouraged by the expressions of resistance during the Games in Vancouver.

“No movement has ever succeeded without using a diversity of tactics, which arises from the involvement of diverse social movements, and this is a strength that should be promoted,” said Hill. “Expressions of resistance in non-Native movements shows a fighting spirit, a warrior spirit,” he said.

A day of action on Indigenous rights, called by the Defenders of the Land, will take place June 24 in Toronto.

An Indigenous counter-summit planned for Toronto evolved out of an Indigenous summit in Hokkaido, Japan, which took place during the G8 summit there in 2008.

The decision to focus on the G8 in 2008 was a telling moment in the international Indigenous movement, said Powless, because it brought together those people living in G8 countries who are directly impacted by economic and colonial policies.

The four-day gathering at Toyako, Hokkaido, in Ainu territory, included Ainu performances and cultural events, as well as open- and closed-door meetings, all of which took place alongside public events surrounding the G8 summit. “It did a good job of opening up the spotlight in terms of Indigenous issues there, and gave a fairly prominent voice to a lot of the Indigenous representatives who were able to attend,” said Powless.

In addition to the actions of June 24, Indigenous people will be active around the G20 in labour unions, anarchist collectives, and national and youth organizations.

Dawn Paley is a journalist based in Vancouver. She is a member of the editorial collective of the Vancouver Media Co-op.

This story was published in The Dominion's special issue on the G8 and G20 summits in Ontario. We will continue to publish independent, investigative news about the G8 and G20 throughout the month of June.

For up-to-the-minute G8/G20 news from the streets of Toronto, visit the Toronto Media Co-op.

Grassy Narrows River Run 3