First Nation sues Ottawa over its land claim
Frustrated by over 40 years of failed negotiations with Ottawa, a Quebec First Nation has abandoned the land claim process and will instead wage a court battle against the federal government.
Chief Christian Awashish says his people want title over a land mass that stretches across the Haute-Mauricie region, covering 26,360 square kilometres of wetlands, rivers and boreal forest.
The Atikamekw never signed a treaty ceding their territory to the government of Canada. And yet their villages have been flooded to make way for dams and thousands of acres of forest have been clearcut over the past century.
Awashish filed suit against the federal government in Montreal’s Superior Court Tuesday.
“The territory isn’t anything like it was when I was a child,” said Siméon Chachai, an Atikamekw elder who spoke on the courthouse steps. “We’ve lost moose herds, traplines and seen the fish populations dwindle. We used to be able to navigate everywhere in a canoe.
“It’s just not the same anymore. So many of the animals that sustained us have been scared away or died because of logging.”
The suit, which seeks Indigenous title over the land, is the first of its kind in Quebec. It comes nearly five years after the Supreme Court’s historic ruling in the Tsilhqot’in case, in which the court granted a First Nation title over 1,700 square kilometres of territory in British Columbia.
The decision gave the Tsilhqot’in hunting, trapping and fishing rights over their traditional territory. But it also cautioned that the First Nation had to identify specific sites rather than assert its authority over the entire land mass.
“It’s exactly the same thing (as Tsilhqot’in) — it’s a semi-nomadic people who still occupy an ancestral territory and practise their culture on the land,” said Nadir André, the lawyer representing the Atikamekw. “They can demonstrate title on a part of their territory.”
There are over a dozen similar title lawsuits across Canada, but the Atikamekw’s is the first of its kind in Quebec. André was asked if he worries an adverse ruling might set the cause of Indigenous sovereignty back.
“There’s always a risk,” he said.
“But if everyone told themselves that, we’d still be negotiating with no rights. It required people to take risks and win court cases to advance the rights of Indigenous people. That’s what we’re doing.”
Chief Awashish, who hails from the remote community of Opitciwan, is well versed in the land claims process. He worked with the Specific Claims Tribunal to have it recognize the damage caused to his homeland by the logging industry in 1918.
The claim dealt with a decision, by the Quebec government, to repeatedly flood Atikamekw territory while damming rivers in the region. The floods twice destroyed the village of Opitciwan and eliminated 1,700 square kilometres in traplines.
In 2016, the tribunal found Ottawa had failed to adequately warn and prepare the Atikamekw ahead of the floods, making the government liable for up to $150 million in reparation payments. The federal government appealed the decision and it remains before the tribunal.
Prior to that, the community of Opitciwan spent nearly 40 years negotiating with the governments of Canada and Quebec to settle its ancestral claim over the Atikamekw territory.
But Awashish said the governments’ latest offers fell way short of what he would consider fair.
“This is about recognizing our existence on this territory, our title, our language and our ancestors,” Awashish said. “After 40 years of negotiations that have not allowed us to undertake a societal project, I don’t think anyone can accuse us of lacking patience.
“I understand the complexity … of recognizing Indigenous rights and title, but there have to be limits on how far this process can be stretched.”
As it stands, there are 3,200 people living in the Atikamekw community of Opitciwan, which is roughly 700 kilometres north of Montreal. Though some families support themselves through jobs at a sawmill or at the band council, most still turn to the land for subsistence.
Harvesting white fish as well as hunting moose, black bear and small game is still the main source of nutrition for most people on the remote territory. In an era when Indigenous languages are disappearing, around 98 per cent of the population speaks Atikamekw as a first language.
But systemic poverty, a housing crisis and the legacy of Canada’s residential school system still plague the community. Awashish says more autonomy over the territory would go a long way toward lifting people out of poverty.
“Now we’ll be the one to decide how the territory gets managed,” said Awashish. “We’re proud of our traditions, we’re proud of our ways and that’s what we’re here to defend.”