My culture includes freedom of speech
It is the most dangerous topic in Canadian journalism — what are we allowed to say without being punished?
Over the past few weeks several highplaced mainstream Canadian journalists — Hal Niedzviecki of Write magazine, Jonathan Kay of The Walrus and Steve Ladurantaye of CBC’s The National — have all resigned or been reassigned in the wake of the indigenous community’s outrage and social media campaigns over their comments critical of cultural appropriation. Many more of their peers have been forced to apologize for initially supporting them.
Similar conflicts are ongoing in Canadian history — here the punishment for historical figures in conflict with current orthodoxy is to have one’s name removed permanently from the firmament.
At the crux of all this is the sensitive and difficult subject of native relations in Canada. This is an important issue that everyone should take seriously. But society’s ability to engage freely in crucial and controversial subjects has become compromised. There are now some things you simply cannot say.
We are entering an era of a de facto veto over free speech where native issues are involved.
The issue of relations between the indigenous community and the rest of Canadian society is a complicated one. There have clearly been mistakes made in the past. These have been acknowledged and the problems today receive massive government attention and funding.
But there is a grave danger that the remorse we feel for the actions of our predecessors has turned into a constraint on the free speech and inquiry that lies at the heart of our open, democratic society.
With respect to the immediate debate over cultural appropriation, some indigenous figures have complained that nonnative writers have been “stealing our stories.” But no serious thinker can defend the idea that white writers must stick exclusively to white characters, and vice versa for natives. Rather it is the duty of any artist to do a believable job representing the views of others.
Let’s just call it “cultural appreciation,” agree it makes the world a more interesting place and move on to bigger problems.
And the bigger problem is that in the midst of a necessary national debate on native issues, one side appears to be exerting control over what the other can say.
Journalists are not stupid. (At least that’s how I like to see it.) And having watched several of their kind being forced into re-education programs or pushed aside for challenging the tenets of some native beliefs, we can expect more self-censorship and less free-ranging debate in the future.
But it is a mistake to allow white guilt or societal shame over the past treatment of natives to obstruct personal liberties and robust discussion.
It is undoubtedly a good thing that the indigenous community has become more outspoken. However, we can’t have a conversation if one side dismisses the other as a bunch of colonial-era racists and demands they forfeit their job for holding opposing views. Plus, an honest commitment to the truth often turns up difficult facts that cannot be easily dealt with in a Tweet or two.
Let’s consider the hottest of hot button issues: residential schools.
Similar to the treatment of the journalists mentioned above, Conservative Senator Lynn Beyak was dismissed from the Senate’s aboriginal committee and condemned by her own leadership for suggesting the residential school system had some positive stories to tell. (She also, by the way, praised the Truth and Reconciliation Commission for doing “excellent work.”)
Writing in The Record last month, native commentator Joseph Quesnel agreed with the mobbing of Beyak. “The much-revered principle of freedom of expression should not provide cover for indefensible views,” he said.
With all due respect to Quesnel (we are Facebook friends), this is precisely the situation in which freedom of expression is absolutely necessary.
Beyak’s position may not be popular, but it is entirely defensible. Without in any way dismissing the vast amount of harm the residential school system caused, it is a provable fact that some who attended considered it a beneficial experience.
Former prime minister Stephen Harper’s much-lauded apology in 2008 admitted as much. “Some former students have spoken positively about their experiences at residential schools,” he said. Native playwright Thomson Highway has called his time at residential school “nine of the happiest years of my life.”
Rather than acknowledging this minority view, the native community demands a veto over any non-native who points it out. This is an offence against mainstream Canadian cultural traditions of individual freedom and scientific analysis inherited from the European Enlightenment.
The same thing is going on at historical sites around the country, where native leaders are demanding the names of early Canadian leaders such as Edward Cornwallis, Jeffrey Amherst and Hector-Louis Langevin be scrubbed from maps and buildings because their past actions offend current sensibilities.
In every case, however, there is a more nuanced story to be told. Often an exculpatory one. But such a robust discussion is only possible if free speech and investigation are permitted.
We cannot allow one segment of society to constrain our inalienable rights, regardless of how badly we may feel for past injustices.