Attawapiskat's misery could yield some benefit if it triggers a wholesale rethink on the economic viability of remote aboriginal reserves.
But not much progress will be made if only governments and Canadian taxpayers shift their thinking; the aboriginal people themselves must become more pragmatic.
It is an old story that many of the 615 first nations communities, living in more than 3,000 reserves across the country, are experiencing dire living conditions.
Attawapiskat, a northern Ontario reserve that declared a state of emergency in October, has quickly become a symbol of the crisis, capturing the attention of the media, government and Assembly of First Nations.
But as of Tuesday, two northern Quebec reserves had called their own states of emergency.
And Indian and Northern Affairs reports Attawapiskat is just one of 12 reserves now under third-party financial management, among them one in B.C. - the Nee-Tahi-Buhn in Burns Lake.
"The situation is right across the country," Shawn Atleo, chief of the Assembly of First Nations, says. "We have many Attiwapiskats. Another Attawapiskat can be found at Wasag-amack in northern Manitoba, for example, where a majority of aboriginals have no indoor plumbing, relying on outhouses and slop pails."
As of Oct. 31, more than 120 first nations communities were under a Health Canada water advisory. Incredibly, more than half the water systems on B.C. reserves and 46 per cent of those on Ontario reserves are considered high risk.
The Assembly of First Nations says 85,000 new housing units are needed in first nations com-munities to relieve conditions of severe overcrowding and dilapidated structures.
The reality is, billions of dollars are needed to address existing needs.
Median annual income on reserves, according to the 2006 census, is $11,300, so where the needy aboriginal communities think the necessary funds are going to come from is not clear.
In Attawapiskat, Chief Theresa Spence, who ordered off her reserve a third-party management representative sent by Ottawa, appears to be telling taxpayers: Just send us the cash; we do not want outsiders telling us what to do with it.
But money always comes with strings attached. There's a price for everything.
This is why, even during the best of times, non-aboriginals work hard to court industrial developments which provide the prosperity to build schools and roads and hospitals.
Historically in Canada, whole communities have been spawned by resource developments like mines and sawmills.
And when the ore or the timber, or the export market for whatever the resource is, dries up, the communities wither and die. And residents are forced to relocate to other towns and cities.
By contrast, aboriginals do not necessarily accept that they must live in economically sustainable communities.
In B.C., first nations groups lately have joined forces to oppose the Northern Gateway pipeline project, which promises to bring jobs and tax revenues to B.C. Enbridge is offering the bands a 10-per-cent stake in the development.
One band, the Gitxsan in northwestern B.C., which has signed on to the project, stands to earn $7 million in revenue. Other aboriginals think the Gitxsan are traitorous and the deal now may be jeopardized.
"The government can talk all it wants about pushing tar-sands oil pipelines and tankers through B.C. There's no way our nations will allow it," Chief Art Adolph, representing the Sta'at'ìmc Nation, said this week.
No one wants pollution from resource developments. But such things are viewed as inevitable evils in a process that ultimately enables Canadians to pay their way.
The question is, with so many urgent needs, how do aboriginal communities practically intend to pay their way?
Origin
Source: Vancuver Sun
But not much progress will be made if only governments and Canadian taxpayers shift their thinking; the aboriginal people themselves must become more pragmatic.
It is an old story that many of the 615 first nations communities, living in more than 3,000 reserves across the country, are experiencing dire living conditions.
Attawapiskat, a northern Ontario reserve that declared a state of emergency in October, has quickly become a symbol of the crisis, capturing the attention of the media, government and Assembly of First Nations.
But as of Tuesday, two northern Quebec reserves had called their own states of emergency.
And Indian and Northern Affairs reports Attawapiskat is just one of 12 reserves now under third-party financial management, among them one in B.C. - the Nee-Tahi-Buhn in Burns Lake.
"The situation is right across the country," Shawn Atleo, chief of the Assembly of First Nations, says. "We have many Attiwapiskats. Another Attawapiskat can be found at Wasag-amack in northern Manitoba, for example, where a majority of aboriginals have no indoor plumbing, relying on outhouses and slop pails."
As of Oct. 31, more than 120 first nations communities were under a Health Canada water advisory. Incredibly, more than half the water systems on B.C. reserves and 46 per cent of those on Ontario reserves are considered high risk.
The Assembly of First Nations says 85,000 new housing units are needed in first nations com-munities to relieve conditions of severe overcrowding and dilapidated structures.
The reality is, billions of dollars are needed to address existing needs.
Median annual income on reserves, according to the 2006 census, is $11,300, so where the needy aboriginal communities think the necessary funds are going to come from is not clear.
In Attawapiskat, Chief Theresa Spence, who ordered off her reserve a third-party management representative sent by Ottawa, appears to be telling taxpayers: Just send us the cash; we do not want outsiders telling us what to do with it.
But money always comes with strings attached. There's a price for everything.
This is why, even during the best of times, non-aboriginals work hard to court industrial developments which provide the prosperity to build schools and roads and hospitals.
Historically in Canada, whole communities have been spawned by resource developments like mines and sawmills.
And when the ore or the timber, or the export market for whatever the resource is, dries up, the communities wither and die. And residents are forced to relocate to other towns and cities.
By contrast, aboriginals do not necessarily accept that they must live in economically sustainable communities.
In B.C., first nations groups lately have joined forces to oppose the Northern Gateway pipeline project, which promises to bring jobs and tax revenues to B.C. Enbridge is offering the bands a 10-per-cent stake in the development.
One band, the Gitxsan in northwestern B.C., which has signed on to the project, stands to earn $7 million in revenue. Other aboriginals think the Gitxsan are traitorous and the deal now may be jeopardized.
"The government can talk all it wants about pushing tar-sands oil pipelines and tankers through B.C. There's no way our nations will allow it," Chief Art Adolph, representing the Sta'at'ìmc Nation, said this week.
No one wants pollution from resource developments. But such things are viewed as inevitable evils in a process that ultimately enables Canadians to pay their way.
The question is, with so many urgent needs, how do aboriginal communities practically intend to pay their way?
Origin
Source: Vancuver Sun
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