Lessons from teepee protest are ours to learn
One supposes the teepees had to come down some time.
If for no other reason than the safety of those involved in the Justice for Our Stolen Children camp, this was something that had to happen sooner or later.
Winter is coming and the consequences of protesters toughing it out in 40-below temperatures for their political beliefs is disconcerting.
Even more worrisome has been the ever-growing prospect of peaceful protesters falling victim to yahoos emboldened by booze and/ or their barely-below-thesurface-racism made acceptable by jackasses on social media and elsewhere. Why any tiny mind would take it upon himself to confront protesters with Nazi salutes or bottle rockets is beyond comprehension.
Yes, the protesters were in violation of bylaws. They never did seek out a permit, as observed by Court of Queen’s Bench Justice Ysanne Wilkinson in her order that the camp be dismantled. But let us put such matters in the context of real criminality, like uttering threats or endangerment.
Some protesters may have been temporarily detained by police after the June 18 police intervention requested by the Provincial Capital Commission. But what was the real criminality at the protest camp?
Nevertheless, the rule of law is important. Whether we completely agree with every aspect of the law or whether you may believe the bylaw in question is of less consequence than the principles the protest represented, law needs to be obeyed. Our world cannot otherwise function.
And First Nation protesters did obey the law this week when they ended their 197-day protest camp — one that, as Leader-Post reporter Arthur White-Crummey noted, “endured 133 millimetres of snow and rain, winter temperatures below -25 C and summer temperatures above 40 C.”
Surely, one of the positives to emerge is respect and admiration for Prescott Demas and others who stuck it out because they wanted something better for their people.
“I’ve been here every day for a little over six months,” Demas said. “I need a rest, a little downtime, I’m going to go sit out in the country and enjoy the quietness. I want to be alone, just quiet, peace.”
Their message wasn’t always focused or coherent. Much their core concern was directed at a provincial government that can do little to change matters critical to First Nations people, such as inequities in the federal justice system that many suggest were evident in the Gerald Stanley not-guilty verdict in the death of 23-year-old Red Pheasant First Nation resident Colten Boushie.
Others will question the strategic effectiveness of a prolonged protest at a time when there is public fatigue in dealing with First Nations issues that cannot be easily solved.
But a bit of added perspective is needed here.
First, there were some very specific concerns and issues raised by the campers, involving serious current problems with the child welfare system that would not have otherwise received public attention. That Premier Scott Moe chose not to sit down and discuss such issues with the protesters, and that those in his government who did meet with the campers gave them short shrift, says much about why First Nations people are legitimately frustrated.
If you are still of the simplistic view that the protesters were there because they had nothing better to do, you haven’t actually read this far in the column or you are married to views of the previous millennium. But let us hope that that’s not where our leadership is at.
Protests, by nature, are designed to make us uncomfortable. We can either be mad about that or we can take a mature response and learn.
Let us hope that other leaders take their cue from the patiently brilliant handling of the protest by Regina Chief of Police Evan Bray and his officers. Sadly, it was often the police providing the patience, understanding and listening that should have been provided by government and other community leaders.
If the government — and the rest of us — didn’t learn from the teepee protest, it wasn’t the protesters’ fault.