Everything I Know about Indigenous People, I learned from Disney's Pocahontas

Well, okay. We know that isn't true, but it was probably very close to being true when I first saw the film in 1995. I still watch it sometimes. And before any of our esteemed historians begin to lecture me about the historical inaccuracies of Disney's version of Pocahontas' life, I'll quickly interject and say that it is the sentiment of the film that matters to children. And as for me - well, we all know that I just love musicals.

Below I have embedded Disney's multilingual version of the song, Colors of the Wind. If you'd like to hear the entire thing in English, go here. Happy listening, and Happy Halloween!

Blue lake and rocky shore; I will return once more...

It was a pleasure to read Herbert Northcott’s essay, Going Native: A White Guy’s Experience Teaching in an Aboriginal Context. Thus far in the course readings I have felt disconnected and alienated by the lack of substantial examples of how Whiteness manifests itself in the classroom, and what a multicultural approach to instruction can and should accomplish. Northcott has given me something real and meaningful to consider and has engaged me on a much deeper level than any of the previous readings have, and for that I am thankful to him.

I have sometimes said that Canada’s treatment of the Aboriginal people is this nation’s greatest shame, without really knowing what I was talking about. The fact that I didn’t know what I was talking about was a testament to the reasons for which I, as a Canadian, should be ashamed. I live on the South Shore, next to the Kahnawake reservation, and every morning I take the 138 through that reservation on my way in to school. Still, when I was younger I knew almost nothing about my Mohawk neighbors, except for the fact that my grandmother used to go to Kahnawake to play Bingo, and my father went there buy cigarettes, and every once in awhile the Mohawks barricaded the Mercier bridge for reasons I didn’t understand and were never properly explained to me. For a child, this information is more than enough to form an opinion. The gambling implied moral degeneracy (nevermind that the good residents of Chateauguay flocked to the reserve to partake in said degeneracy, and that the same Bingo games were played in our Church’s basement every Saturday night), the smoking implied a lack of hygiene and a general contempt for clean air and healthy lungs (nevermind that my entire family smoked when I was young), and the barricading of the bridge implied lawlessness, even terrorism. There were rumors at my elementary school that the Indians had secretly strapped sticks of dynamite to the bridge and one day, they’d detonate the explosives during rush-hour to the peril of all the White commuters – that my parents crossed that bridge every day on their way to and from work chilled me to the bone. Every time they were late picking me up from my grandmother’s house I would pace by the front door, staring out into the blackness, nauseous with the melodramatic notion that finally, the Indians had blown up the bridge and my parents had plummeted to the bottom of the St. Lawrence River.

Mohawk protesters barricade the Mercier bridge in June of 2007.

Of course, as I matured I realized that my fears and prejudices were founded on ignorance, though for a long time I remained conscious of that ignorance without willing myself out of it. My formal education certainly did nothing to help, and neither did my informal education (that is to say, television and newspapers). After dating a wildly good-looking Mokawk boy in grade six, I had no exposure to Aboriginal culture until my involvement with the Girl Guides of Canada three years ago. I had been a Guide when I was younger and I am an experienced camper, and at the time I was toying with the idea of committing myself to education as a career so I applied for a job at the Guides’ summer camp in the Laurentians.

The Wa-thik-ane campgrounds are beautiful, minimalist and well-kept, scattered around a lake so clean you can run to the end of the dock, leap out into the air, and see the pebble-covered bottom of the lake clearly, just before you hit the surface of the water. The individual campsites are named after Aboriginal communities – Cree, Micmac, Algonquin, Iroquois, Huron, Montagnais, Mohawk, and Chippewa. The naming scheme charmed me, though I found that nobody on the staff had any substantial knowledge of these Aboriginal cultures. Nevertheless, my interest was piqued and so I brought up some books on First Nations history, finding myself most interested by their cosmologies, creation myths and metaphysical ideologies (as a Godless Liberal, it was all deliciously exotic to me). Later in the summer, our camp was treated to a visit from a group of Innu children from Eastern Quebec, most of whom didn’t speak English, though some spoke a little French. Watching the visitors get along (and not get along) with our girls was an educational (and humorous) experience for me, and though I often didn’t have a clue what the Innu children were saying, I was sure that I liked them. I found them to be warm and joyous, eager to learn English words and teach us songs in Innu, so much so that when our girls refused to go to bed on time I joked that I would happily trade them for a few of the Aboriginal children, and if they stayed up all night and then slept in past colours then they’d wake up on a bus halfway to the Mashteuiatsh reserve near Lac Saint-Jean.

There was some chafing, however, especially at the dinner table. The Innu children had little regard for the kinds of table manners our girls had been taught (and which were strictly enforced by members of the camp staff, including myself). Often, the non-Aboriginal children were disgusted by their new friends’ disregard for forks and knives, and they were angry with me for not punishing the newcomers the same way I punished them for “playing with their food.” The language barrier was another difficulty, sometimes resulting in hurt feelings or incoherent arguments with a great deal of ineffective yelling and arm-flailing. Mostly, though, it was the Innu children’s lack of respect for any non-Aboriginal authority that caused the most problems. Even the children who understood French would not respond to French directions by anyone who was not their leader. During activities, they would not remain on task and were often found wandering off on their own, quietly stubborn to any instruction I gave to rejoin the group. I remember privately questioning how some of these children would ever be able to participate fully in Canadian life if they would not respond to anyone outside their circle for any meaningful length of time.

Camp Wa-thik-ane is located on the edge of Lac Bouchette, seen here at dusk.

All this to explain why I especially enjoyed Northcott’s essay, which crystallizes the essence of the cultural differences between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal cultures when it comes to learning, particularly in the case of a White instructor teaching Aboriginal students. Not only are there historical and political barriers between our two people, there is also a fundamental cultural difference in the way Aboriginal children learn. Northcott writes on page 59,

I asked, “How did teaching occur in Cree culture in the past.” It was observed that in the past teaching and learning often involved storytelling and example, and learning was experimentally based. Furthermore, communication often took place in a circle where all were considered more-or-less equal.

Taken together with Frideres’ observations of the behavior of minority students in his predominantly White classrooms, this gives me a more substantial understanding of why some of our group activities with the Innu girls were unsuccessful. I now feel better equipped to answer Northcott’s question about how a White instructor can become “culturally sensitive” and how cultural sensitivity can be practiced in the classroom.

The first step towards cultural sensitivity is, I think, education about the culture to which one wishes to be sensitive. I continue to feel disadvantaged when commenting on issues of Aboriginal education because of my general ignorance of Aboriginal history, culture and the political issues which largely define Aboriginal communities in the Canadian media. A superficial reading of recent policy papers and proposals by the federal government and the Aboriginal community about education renders me surprised that these issues are not spoken about more often by the press, because it is a constantly evolving debate of critical importance to our future as a nation. What’s more, I think this debate is also an integral part of our past as a nation, and yet I was never taught about Aboriginal history in school.

The second step towards cultural sensitivity is an open dialogue with Aboriginal leaders, parents and educators. Just as Northcott spoke to his mature students about what kind of pedagogy they would be most comfortable with, I think non-Aboriginal instructors who teach Aboriginal students should have access to conversation with, or at least resources produced by, members of that child’s community. Recent efforts to reform educational policy to give more control to Aboriginal people over the curriculum taught in their schools seem promising, and the curricular changes produced by Aboriginal educators to respond to this new responsibility will be invaluable to teachers who wish to make their classrooms more inclusive.

In fact, I don’t believe the contributions of Aboriginal educators to the curriculum would be beneficial only to Aboriginal students. Indeed, all Canadian students would benefit from a balanced and accurate account of the history, economy, values and culture of their own country. On this note, I made a particular connection with Northcott when he opined that the student-centered learning strategy he employed with his Aboriginal students would be equally beneficial to a classroom of White students:

I have always disliked the pedagogical tradition of a lecturer lecturing to a large and relatively passive audience of students… I have accumulated evidence over the years I have taught in First Nations colleges that Aboriginal students do not do as “well” as non-Aboriginal students in lecture-based courses with multiple-choice examinations; nevertheless, I have long been convinced that such courses are in the best interests of neither Aboriginal nor non-Aboriginal students. (65)

I agree entirely and found myself envying the Aboriginal students their learning environment with Northcott, wondering if I could modify the strategy to make it viable in my own (future) classrooms.

Northcott’s question about how Aboriginals and Whites should negotiate pedagogy in a changing world is a natural next step in our discussion. On the institutional level, as I have already mentioned, changes are underway to give Aboriginals more autonomy over the content of their curriculum (the history of White control over Aboriginal education is as fascinating as it is painful, but I will not elaborate on it here – please see my response to Lindberg, and the references I provide on my link list). High on the list of amendments to be made is the course textbooks, particularly for history. As Northcott notes on page 58, "As I received possible textbooks, it struck me that the texts were written for the most part by Euro-Canadians about our society dominated by Euro-Canadian social structure and cluture."

The limitations placed on curriculum necessarily translate to limitations placed on pedagogy – standardized exams are only a very obvious example of why this is so. While it is, I think, very important that Aboriginal children become comfortable and proficient with the methods of evaluation prevalent in Canadian universities, familiarization with these methods should not come at the expense of their ethnic identities, and certainly not at the expense of the quality of their education. Striking the correct balance is essential to producing good graduates who are not only prepared to face the realities of contemporary Canadian life but who also have a solid connection to their native communities, language and culture. This will be done by ongoing and productive dialogue between First Nations leaders and the federal government. As I have already indicated, the developments made between these two parties will be invaluable to all educators as a new and potentially fruitful approach to educating all children.

Forgotten, but not gone

While Northcott’s essay on teaching Aboriginal students spoke to my pedagogical interests, Tracy Lindberg’s essay, On Indigenous Academia: The Hermeneutics of Indigenous Western Institutional Participation – Eleven Theorems poses questions that speak to my interests in public policy and Canadian history (both of which are severely underfed by study, but I find these topics fascinating nevertheless). Specifically, I wish to answer Lindberg’s question about how the histories, employees and policies of Canadian institutions reflect Whiteness and White culture by examining the institution of Aboriginal schools and the governing body which oversees them – that is, the federal government. I will present a brief historical overview here, and then address Lindberg’s other question about how individuals can address institutionalized Whiteness by commenting on how the policy has changed, and is still being changed, and what obstacles continue to persist.

Even before the British North America Act was written, the government’s policy with respect to Aboriginal education has been one of assimilation. Education would, as the minister of Indian affairs, Frank Oliver, predicted in 1908, "elevate the Indian from his condition of savagery" and "make him a self-supporting member of the state, and eventually a citizen in good standing."* This meant that the Aboriginal children were to learn English, and learn Catholicism. Not only that, but the policy unapologetically called for the complete eradication of the Aboriginal identity of the child, including, most importantly, language. Residential schools for aboriginal children were established across the nation which where jointly administered by the government and the Church, with the Church playing the dominant role. These schools were often far away from Indian reservations and so the children where severed from their parents to be cared for by strangers bent on transforming them into obedient, Christian subjects.

The tragic history of physical, emotional and sexual abuse that followed in these schools, up until as late as the 1980s, is well documented. It was commonplace to beat children for speaking their native languages and other indiscretions; the treatment was so terrible that many children ran away and died of exposure as they tried to find their way back to their homes. Death from diseases such as cholera and smallpox was also common. The Legacy of Hope Foundation has a website up documenting the conditions in the residential schools and cataloging testimony from veterans. Below I have embedded a few of the interviews found on the Where are the Children? webpage.

Belinda Vandenbrock	Bernadene Harper
Brenda Cardinal	Clive Linklater

The fact that the residential schools were ineffective at producing good graduates is probably the least devastating legacy of the failed experiment. In 1992, a First Nations task force group forwarded to the minister of justice of the day, Kim Campbell, "a statement prepared and approved by B.C. First Nations Chiefs and leaders". In it, they pointed out that, “The federal government established the system of Indian residential schools which was operated by various church denominations. Therefore, both the federal government and churches must be held accountable for the pain inflicted upon our people. We are hurt, devastated and outraged. The effect of the Indian residential school system is like a disease ripping through our communities.”** Indeed, it is not very difficult to imagine why new generations of Aboriginals are weary of education in general, and federally-administered education in particular. Nor is it very difficult to imagine why many northern communities are devastated by widespread emotional and physical disorders such as depression, alcoholism and drug addiction. The legacy of the residential schools is inherited like a genetic affliction from parent to child, to grandchild.

A group of nuns with Aboriginal students, ca. 1890. Photographer: Library and Archives Canada, PA-123707

A watershed in the history of Aboriginal education occurred in 1972, when the National Indian Brotherhood (now called the Assembly of First Nations) published a document demanding Aboriginal self-governance over education and outlining a plan for accomplishing this. The Department of Indian and Northern Affairs readily accepted the proposal, and since then there has been a gradual transference of administrative powers form the federal government to the Aboriginal education authorities. Today, the vast majority of Aboriginal communities manage their own schools and, although there is still a significant gap in educational attainment between First Nation students and the general population, the proportion of First Nation students living on reserve who have completed high school has increased significantly.

In 1996, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples strongly recommended the federal government give more control over education to the Aboriginal people, and recent policy papers suggest a move in this direction. In 1998, the Government of Canada responded to the Royal Commission’s recommendations with Gathering Strength - Canada's Aboriginal Action Plan, which called for a renewed partnership with Aboriginal people based on recognizing past mistakes and injustices and acknowledging its role in the development and administration of residential schools (in 2005, the federal government agreed to pay victims of residential schools upwards of $10,000 each, amounting to $2Billion in total). Also in 2005, the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs released a detailed Education Action Plan outlining a timetable for establishing specific policy with regards to administration, curriculum, funding, and monitoring of Aboriginal education. The key components of the new policy will be:

1. maximized participation and success in early learning, education, training and skills development;
2. education characterized by quality and excellence of instruction and relevant curricula;
3. education grounded in First Nation values, traditions, culture and languages;
4. safe learning environments;
5. appropriate fiscal resources; and
6. an ultimate outcome of First Nation jurisdiction over First Nation education.

Although these plans are far from realized, and many grievances and stumbling-blocks still remain (namely, the discriminatory framework of the Indian Act on which all new policy is built, and the ongoing requests for a public inquiry into the abuse suffered by victims of residential schools), we must also awknowledge that we have come a long way. In this specific example of evolving public policy, we see how Canadian history, policy, institutions and employees have been, and continue to be, tainted by a systemic White bias.

Efforts are being made to reform the offending institutions, but these efforts are still being managed predominantly by White politicians, who are often pandering to the political whims of a largely White constituency. It is a terrible obstacle that most of said White constituency is unaware of the full extent of the injustice done to the Aboriginal people – it is my instinct that if Canadians were made aware of the true story of their victimization, there would be a public outcry for faster and more equitable action by the government. Even after all I have read over the past few days, I still believe that we are a compassionate and fair-minded people. What needs to change, I have come to think, is the invisibility of the problem; it is quarantined on the reservations and ignored by the media. What's more, when one is at last stricken with the full volume of it, the problem seems too old, too great, and too terrible to fix. As Lindberg reminds us in her essay, even after the overt racism has been removed from our education legislation, systemic racism and White bias still persists, even in our institutions of higher learning.

… there is a sense that we are personally indebted to those who hire us, to the degree that we are perceived as “uppity” or “angry” if we do not happily accept mentorship, gleefully appreciate inappropriate inquisitiveness, or dumbly accept ethnocentric standards and dialogue. That onus, that particular brand of race hate and the degeneration of Indigenous peoples’ merit, more than our own will to remain strong diminishes us in the eyes of our peers. At every level of achievement that I have had – entry to law school, entry to graduate school, and my current position as professor – one person (in each situation, a non-Indigenous woman) has told me that I got the position, seat or job as a result of their recommendation, influence, or good will. (69)

So how should we, as individuals, respond to such institutionalized racism? This is a question to which Lindberg explicitly replies in her essay, asserting in her essay on page 74 that, “institutional change starts with individuals who work in institutions.” This truth may be read as mildly dooming when taken with some of Lindberg’s other theorems. Namely, that “Most people you meet in academia will never have met an Indigenous person before” (68) and that “we may be the only Indigenous people that an institution has “room” for." (70) Still, it is clear that Lindberg’s essay was written for an Aboriginal reader and was meant to galvanize the social action of her professional compatriots. I will take her message to heart and say that it is our collective responsibility, as Canadians, to make ourselves aware of the bias, the unfairness, the marginalization - and rectify it. This begins with people who work in institutions, but I think it can also begin with an awakened citizenry demanding more of its government and its press. In this sense, all of us, academics and laypeople alike, share the burden of moving our country forward to the place it needs to be.

I have already written about how teachers can be important agents of change. I don’t want to be redundant or tedious; instead, I will say here that this month, Canada voted against a UN resolution on Indigenous people’s rights (read the government's position here). Shortly after, Quebec Aboriginals invited United Nations inspectors to come and see their reservations, expecting that Ottawa will receive a failing grade for performance on education, housing and youth-protection issues. I think that these two stories are a good place to start to raise our awareness and heighten our sensitivity to the issues afflicting our Aboriginal neighbors. This, I think, is a realistic place for us to start, if we are to be active components of a bigger solution.

A young student at the Old Anglican Mission School
on the Blackfoot Reserve, Alberta, ca. 1900.

Photographer: Glenbow Archives, NC-5-53

---

* National Archives of Canada (NAC), Record Group 10 (RG10), volume 6039, file 160-1, MR C 8152, F. Oliver to Joint Church Delegation, 21 March 1908.

** INAC file E6575-18-2, volume 01 (Protected), To the Honourable Kim Campbell from Grand Chief Edward John, 18 December 1992, and attachment.

Both of these sources are listed as cited in the Report of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, Chapter 10, pages 1 and 3, respectively.

Go, go! Get yourself a nice cup of coffee, a few squares of dark chocolate, and then sit back and enjoy this...

Sometimes I wish I had become a social scientist, because so much of the research being done right now is brilliant. Below I have embedded a lecture delivered last year by Mazarin Banaji, who is the Richard Clarke Cabot Professor of Social Ethics at Harvard and the Carol K. Pforzheimer Professor at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study. Her research is concerned with human thinking and feeling in social context and in this lecture she discusses the hidden attitudes people have about social group memberships such as race, gender and class.

The talk is 30 minutes long, but I think it is time well spent. Not only is Banaji a wonderful scientist and an animated speaker, but her message is tremendously meaningful. By the end, you will be convinced that your mind is filled with what she calls invisible "bugs," biasing your perception of everyone you meet and influencing every judgment you make. To paraphrase the eminent (and sexy?) Neil deGrasse Tyson when he comments at the end, 'any time you learn something about yourself... when you thought you knew yourself... it's a remarkable moment.'




Especially important for us as future teachers, I think, is Banaji's optimistic conclusion that exposure to role-models of color, or role-models who are women, can reverse the unconscious bias. If that is true, then simply by watching this lecture we have probably done our unconscious minds some good! To take part in Banaji's research, go to implicit.harvard.edu. To hear more lectures on this and other hot topics in science, social science and philosophy, go to tsntv.org.

A haunting zeitgeist, just in time for Halloween...

This morning's Globe and Mail reports on the aftermath of last Friday's brutal beating of a 14-year old girl in Montreal North. We are painted a grim picture of two student bodies shaken by the incident, watching their backs, walking in groups, weary of more violence. Ingrid Peritz writes,

To some observers, the tensions are merely cracks in the Canadian ethnic mosaic that are inevitable in large, cosmopolitan cities such as Montreal. Lester B. Pearson is an English-language school with a predominantly Italian student body; Henri Bourassa is a French-language school with many Haitian students.

Still, community workers say, the flare-up highlights the risks of isolation among ethnic groups in Canada's largest cities.

"What happened reflects how multicultural communities in Montreal can live side by side while ignoring one another," said Pierreson Vaval, a youth protection worker active with schools and police in the area. "These young people are just acting out what their parents are saying at home. Unfortunately, it leads to incidents like this.

"They live in the same neighborhoods. But they don't exchange."

On the French side, TQS interviews students and parents. They also have footage of the beating, taken by a student with a cellular-phone camera:





As I watch the video of the beating, I am stricken by the sheer brutality of it all. That these students would kick a young girl like that as she curls up on the pavement betrays something very ugly about this community, and so about Montreal and Quebec society in general. That this spasm of violence coincides with an ongoing province-wide debate about reasonable accommodation, a controversial PQ proposal concerning Quebec citizenship, and still more debate about the unveiling of Muslim women who want to vote, is certainly no coincidence. The problem is systemic, it is enduring, and it is hurting our students.

Waxing philosophic

Is it just me, or it hiking up McTavish to the Education Building feel alot like climbing out of Plato's allegorical cave? If I listen to the Original Broadway Cast Recording of Cats as I'm climbing, I can almost see the sun...

Good luck to everyone writing the midterm in philosophy!

Defining Whiteness: An Exercise in Introspection and Political Awareness

So far, I have been frustrated by the process of defining Whiteness in this course. That is, I do not think that an adequate definition of the term has been discussed in class or offered in the readings. By "adequate definition" I mean to say, a definition which I find personally meaningful, and one which I think is helpful in identifying instances of White bias in my life, in education, and in Canadian culture.

James Frideres writes in his essay, Being White and Being Right: Critiquing Individual and Collective Privilege:

Once a particular perspective is built into the laws, norms and mores of a society, it becomes part of “the way things are.” As such, Whiteness is defined as part of the human condition and it defines normality. (44)

Running the risk of being labeled as one of the White “challengers” from Frideres’ classrooms, I cannot help but wonder how we are supposed to separate what is considered “normal” in Canada from what is uniquely “White” in Canada. Are the two ideas equivalent? What are the points of commonality in all races, and what are the particularities of White people? Being able to answer these questions is absolutely essential to identifying the latent systemic racism which exists in our society, and yet these are exactly the question that have not been addressed in Frideres’ essay. Saying that Whiteness is the “norm” is, I think, not really helpful when trying to identify specific social constructs which exhibit a bias towards White people.

To me, a helpful definition of Whiteness is one which is reached through careful self-examination, rather than one which is presented as given knowledge from an author to a reader. Only through an acute awareness of one’s own professional, political, social and religious prejudices can one ever hope to recognize and respect someone else’s professional, political, social and religious prejudices. Often for a White person, these prejudices will be in agreement with those most prevalent in Canadian culture, but then again, perhaps not. It is important to be able to identify what parts of one’s worldview coincide with the majority opinion and which parts do not, because realization of the points of convergence will help one to appreciate privilege, and realization of the points of divergence will help one develop a sense of empathy for others who are different. The result of this introspective approach is an understanding of Whiteness that is intimately tied to one’s own cultural identity, and is therefore much more meaningful and likely to galvanize the kind of social activism that is required to further the success of multiculturalism in Canada.

I would therefore ask two questions to James Frideres, following from his discussion of Whiteness on page 51. These questions are practical in nature, written from the perspective of someone who is struggling with the task of extracting meaningful information and insight from the course readings:

Colour-blindness is neither blindness, nor an inability to see colour. Rather, it is a refusal, or what is called “White resistance to seeing.” This resistance is learned and nurtured to protect the status quo that privileges White people and occurs on both the individual and systemic levels. At the individual level, it allows for teachers to absolve oneself of racism. The systemic level of colour-blindness denies the institutionally mandated privileges and discriminatory practices associated with ethnicity. It denies the system of rules, procedures, and beliefs that result in Whites collectively maintaining control.

Firstly, I would ask: When discussing the topic of White privilege with students and colleagues, is introducing Whiteness as an invisible construct propagated to preserve White privilege a wise way to start? Secondly, I would ask, How do we overcome the defensiveness and denial that one inevitably encounters in White people when discussing these issues?

My intuition is that delivering a critique of individual and collective White privilege, such as the one presented here by Frideres, is not the best way to expose students to the concept of White privilege. The tone is too accusatory and there are no concrete examples of White bias to which students can relate. After reading it, one feels deflated, defeated, and somehow guilty. I think it would be more productive to invite students to examine their own cultural identities, relate those identities to the societal norms in both positive and negative ways, and then present the students with examples of racism on both the individual and societal levels. This might help students to appreciate the existence of White bias while at the same time avoiding the implication that students are guilty of the crime by automatic virtue of their ethnicity. This not only serves to minimize defensiveness but also to make White students realize that they are empowered and important agents of change.

Here I go, a White control freak, whining about standards...

I am disappointed that we did not have the time to discuss Kathleen Berry’s essay in class on Wednesday. Now I feel as if she’s getting away with something and I don’t like it. That is, there is a part of her auto-ethnography, Exploring the Authority of Whiteness in Education which not only misleads the reader but also, I think, does a disservice to the very minorities she seeks to elevate.

She writes on page 26,

Compatible with the Enlightenment, today’s teacher education programs still pay homage to the principles and structures of knowledge such as subject disciplines, objective outcomes, and standardized testing/courses. Even mathematics is based on Greek and Roman perceptions of the world. Time, measurement, angles, geometry and arithmetic with its base ten configurations, are created out of the need for early Western rationality to manage, control, unify, shape and govern a diverse population with its plurality of nation states, languages, cultural knowledge, and values. Cultural groups who construct time, place, organize family and spiritual centers, and build connecting artefacts such as tunnels and bridges did so without Western rationality. When asked to consent and conform to a different consciousness, however, the Other is positioned on the fringes of power or silenced. Those students with a non-Eurocentric ancestry sit before me as they are forced to consent to time and space configurations that were created and enforced by Western rationality.

Berry goes on to claim that pluralism requires the “eradication” of educational standards:

Just as oppositional binaries and Eurocentricism have defined rationality, scientific objectivity, and separation of mind (as cogitative, biological), body (as object), and spirituality (as metaphysical waste), so too as modern education. The public (ignited by the likes of publishers, government interests, and media) and educational professionals (fuelled by fear of loss of power, control and Whiteness) whine about diminishing “standards,” the need for “standards,” plus more and earlier “standardized” testing. What, in fact, is happening is a need to maintain control over privileges that come with a society based on Whiteness…

After reading this essay several times, I have come to realize that it is not Berry’s (discouragingly negative) perception of White culture that annoys me, but rather the fact that she speaks of ‘Whiteness’ and ‘rationality’ and ‘scientific objectivity’ in the same breath, as if these concepts were somehow synonymous. In fact they are not, and any argument based on the premise that reason is a cultural particularity of the West is nonsensical. Reason is as universally human a faculty as love. Mathematics, it is said, is the only truly common language. Indeed, empirical observation may be the only absolute standard of truth we have, and to throw into doubt this point of universal understanding is, I think, very dangerous. Every culture can have its own opinion about the afterlife, or about how best to distribute wealth among its people, but when we begin to claim that an object’s acceleration due to gravity at sea level is a topic open for debate, then we are in very big trouble.

Now, I realize that I am using a rational argument to defend rationality, which is a circular paradox that is at best irrational, but if I were to use an irrational argument to defend rationality then I fear it would be even worse. Now, you see the sort of logical cul-de-sac Berry’s argument has backed us into. But my problem with her essay does not end there, because ours is not only a philosophical disagreement - Berry also has got some of her facts wrong.

Twice in her essay, Berry makes specific reference to “base-ten numbers,” claiming that these, among other things, were invented “out of the need for early Western rationality to manage, control, unify, shape and govern a diverse population with its plurality of nation states, languages, cultural knowledge, and values.” I can’t see how this is even remotely possible, because the number system in question is not Western in origin. Base-ten notation was used in ancient India and later in the Arabic Empire, but never by the Greeks and never by the Romans. The decimal notation we use today was only imported into Europe much later, in the middle ages by an Italian mathematician who studied in Algeria. This is exactly why we call our numbers ‘Arabic numerals’ – they’re Arabic!

In fact, our scientific vocabulary is filled with artifacts of Eastern contributions to early science – ‘algorithm,’ ‘algebra,’ ‘alchemy,’ and ‘alkaline’ are just a handful of words whose origins can be traced back to the Islamic Golden Age, when Muslim scientists were pioneers of discovery and Baghdad was one of the centers of the intellectual world. It may surprise some people to know that two-thirds of the stars in the sky have Arabic names, thanks to Muslim astronomers who meticulously scoured the skies between the years 800 and 1100 AD. Even the scientific method itself - taught as Gospel in every high school science classroom - was pioneered by an Islamic scientist. (Dennis Overbye wrote a brief piece on the rise and fall of Islamic science for the New York Times: you can read it here.)

The assertion that our modern understanding of space, time, geometry and mathematics are based on White perceptions of the world not only overlooks the vast contributions to science made by Eastern cultures, but also betrays a misunderstanding of the nature of science itself. Science is not a perception, it is a process, and the product of this process is empirical truth. Truth cannot be politicized, and truth is not answerable to the kind of cultural relativism to which Berry has subjected it here. To do so not only cheapens science, but also delivers a backhanded insult to those cultures which can, and do, and have for a long time, made meaningful contributions to this school of thought.

A Persian astrolabe from 1208

What Berry’s essay suffers from, I think, is a lack of clarity in differentiating the scopes of science and philosophy. That is, the real conflict does not lie in the subjugation of Eastern culture by scientific objectivity. Rather, the problem arises when scientific materialism usurps the role of philosophy and spirituality as the only logically tenable worldview. For instance, I think that a good argument can be made that White culture sometimes values scientific truth to the exclusion of spiritual and philosophical insight. If this is true, then I would argue that it is not our standard of scientific literacy which is to blame, but rather the lack of diversity in our social science curriculum. Whereas science is uniquely concerned with what is, philosophy, theology and studies in spirituality are concerned with what ought to be, and there may be great understanding to be gained from Eastern perspectives.

In his book, The Universe in a Single Atom: the Convergence of Science and Spirituality, Tenzin Gyatso (the fourteenth Dalai Lama) articulates a position that respects the boundaries of science and spirituality while also realizing how each might complement the other. On page 205 he writes,

The insights of science have enriched many aspects of my own Buddhist worldview. Einstein’s theory of relativity, with its vivid thought experiments, has given an empirically tested texture to my grasp of Nagarjuna’s theory of the relativity of time. The extraordinary detailed picture of the behaviour of subatomic particles at the minutest levels imaginable brings home the Buddha’s teaching on the dynamically transient nature of all things. The discovery of the genome all of us share throws into sharp relief the Buddhist view of the fundamental equality of all human beings.

What is the place of science in the totality of human endeavor? It has investigated everything from the smallest amoeba to the complex neurobiological system of human beings, from the creation of the universe and the emergence of life on earth to the very nature of matter and energy. Science has been spectacular in exploring reality. It has not only revolutionized our knowledge but opened new avenues of knowing. It has begun to make inroads into the complex question of consciousness – they key characteristic that makes us sentient. The question is whether science can provide a comprehensive understanding of the entire spectrum of reality and human existence.

From the Buddhist perspective, a full human understanding must not only offer a coherent account of reality, our means of apprehending it, and the place of consciousness but also include a clear awareness of how we should act. In the current paradigm of science, only knowledge derived through a strictly empirical method underpinned by observation, inference, and experimental verification can be considered valid. The method involves the use of quantification and measurement, repeatability, and confirmation by others. Many aspects of reality as well as some key elements of human existence, such as the ability to distinguish between good and evil, spirituality, artistic creativity - some of the things we most value about human beings – inevitably fall outside the scope of the method. Scientific knowledge, as it stands today, is not complete. Recognizing this fact, and clearly recognizing the limits of scientific knowledge, I believe, is essential. Only by such recognition can we genuinely appreciate the need to integrate science within in the totality of human knowledge. Otherwise our conception of the world, including our own existence, will be limited to the facts adduced by science, leading to a deeply reductionist, materialistic, even nihilistic worldview.

That an Eastern spiritual leader harbours such deep respect for science is very inspiring to me. If we are to diversify our educational system to include a more global perspective, then this is exactly the kind of approach that is needed: not the elimination of our standards for scientific excellence, but the addition of substantial study in Eastern history, philosophy, literature, and religion. Just as I believe that students of Eastern origin can flourish in a physics classroom, so too do I believe that Western students can excel in studying Buddhist philosophy. Unlike Berry, I do not believe that the mere existence of standardized testing exhibits a White bias – the bias lies only in what we are requiring the students to learn.

If we fail to realize this, and instead choose to deconstruct our entire system of instruction simply because we can trace its structure and principles back to a period of Western Enlightenment in which racist thought was prevalent, then I fear the result will be to destroy the all the positive, universally productive characteristics that system has to offer students of all ethnicities. That is to say, in our quest to achieve truly inclusive education, let's not end up throwing out the Berry – er, I mean, the baby - with the bathwater.

In case you're wondering, they're chewy and slimy, like little black eyeballs.

Reader, I’ll tell you a secret. I’m not sure I like Kathleen Berry. Well, okay, it’s a love-hate relationship. At times while reading her essay, from Chapter 1 of The Great White North, I found myself whole-heartedly cheering her on. At other times, I was confused to the point of annoyance. I think I will be better able to articulate the essence of my disagreement with, or misunderstanding of, Berry after the class discussion and some extra reading on my part. Maybe a few more cups of coffee will do it. For now, though, I will respond to her concluding questions about Whiteness, privilege, and how we might recognize and fight against the institutionalized and systemic bias in favor of Whiteness that exists in Canadian society. (I want to say that on this point, I agree with Berry entirely that racism still exists, and that it is a problem that should be recognized and addressed.)

And so let us recognize it. Berry asks the readers at the end of her essay to identify ways in which Whiteness has entered their lives in Canada as either privilege and/or oppression. This is at once a very easy, and a very difficult task to address. As a White Canadian, I am aware that my ethnicity does indeed afford me privileges, but this awareness is mostly abstract. It is not specific; it is not personal. There are only a few incidents in my life in which I can recall being privileged because I am White, or being discriminated against because I am White. I will give an example of both types of experience here, and then discuss the issue of Whiteness in a more abstract way.

As I suspect is the case with most people, I recognize my own privilege almost exclusively when I realize the disadvantages of someone who is not White. I remember dating a Mohawk boy in grade six, and my mother was disgusted that I’d associate myself with someone "from the reservation" (in fact, Steven lived two streets over in a bigger house than ours). I remember being stricken by the unfairness of my mother’s distaste for someone because of his race. Was this how the teachers at school thought about him? After that, I was hawkish when watching how Steven was treated by the faculty and staff, ready to pounce on anyone who gave him so much as a dirty look (it was my way of compensating, of course, for the fact that I was too cowardly to pounce on my mother).

But incidents like the one above have been few and far between in my life. Similarly, I have few personal experiences with being the target of racial prejudice. One rather pathetic example happened when I was sixteen and I was at a friend’s birthday party in Mississauga. Every other girl there was either Asian or Black. This, compounded with the fact that I didn’t know any of them, made me feel more than a little conspicuous. When they asked me if I wanted to go with them to get ‘Bubble-Tea,’ and I admitted that I had no idea what they were talking about, one girl laughed and said, "You’re really White, aren’t you?" I shrugged and asked her how she'd managed to figure that one out. Was it the white skin, or the utter lameness of me that gave it away?

That night, I forced down the vile mixture of milk, tea and tapioca balls as if it were a magic elixir that could exculpate me of my Whiteness. When I returned to Montreal, I found a place that sold Bubble-Tea and made a habit of drinking it often, drinking it in public, and telling everyone how great it was. Eventually I developed a taste for it, but it didn’t matter because around that time that I decided to stop drinking it on principle.

Now, I warned you that the example was pathetic! You see now, Reader, the paucity of real experience with prejudice from which I have to draw when trying to imagine what being the victim of racism must be like. I can only say that recently, by virtue of my writing on current events for the purposes of this blog, I have become more aware of the racism and xenophobia that is rampant in Quebec and Canadian culture. It has left me surprised, disillusioned, and eager to effect change. About a month ago, I mused that perhaps my envy of my peers’ cultural distinctiveness had "blinded me to the possibility that this distinctiveness might be a target of bigotry." I can now say that most certainly this is the case. Ironically, the invisibility of my race, which is what perpetuated my feelings of what I called ‘cultural impoverishment,’ is also the mechanism through which the bias in favour of Whiteness propagates.

This suggests to me that not only does the invisibility of Whiteness affect minorities negatively, but it is also detrimental to White identity. Often, there is no racial self-examination for the White Canadian. There is no identity moratorium of a cultural dimension, which, I think, cheapens White identity as something to be taken for granted. Therefore, while it is a privilege not to be labeled as "other" and not to be the object of bigotry, the absence of any critically-achieved cultural identity can also be oppressive to the soul. At least, I think it has been for mine.

In a related question, Barry asks her readers to consider ways in which they, their students and their families and can work to articulate and transform the authority of Whiteness at the individual, societal, community and institutional levels of Canada. I feel very strongly that the articulation must precede the transformation. This blog, our class discussions, our discussions around the dinner table with friends and family, our voices in more public places will be essential to shaping the future of this nation. We must talk amongst ourselves, and then we must talk to those who disagree with us – letters to newspapers, letters to MPs, and public debate are essential.

Although I take issue with many of the opinions being expressed at the Bouchard-Taylor hearings, I think that this kind of public forum is a valuable part of the dialogue. Their website includes a survey you can take to express how you feel about reasonable accomodation in this province. The commission is still hearing statements from the public - you can see their schedule here.

As a citizen, I feel compelled to stay informed and to participate in the conversation - passionately, vocally, and with conviction. As a teacher, however, my philosophy is somewhat different. That is, I do not think it is appropriate to place emphasis on racial issues in a science classroom. This is not to say that a discussion about racial issues isn't important, but only that these issues are not to be debated at the expense of a child's scientific literacy.

When I teach science, I will pay homage to the contributions of White scientists when White scientists deserve the credit, Black scientists when Black scientists deserve the credit, and Chinese scientists when Chinese scientists deserve the credit, and so on. I will point out relevant examples of where racism and sexism have manifested themselves in the history of science. In short, I will teach my subject fairly. I will treat all my students fairly and with sensitivity to their cultural backgrounds. I will not tolerate racism in my classroom. I will not tolerate anything that compromises the academic quality of the class I teach. The way I see it, the best thing I can do for my Minority students is exactly the same as the best thing I can do for my White students: teach them good science.

Be it resolved that... this blog entry is clearly cataloged as a response to Fox's advice, Chapter 8

As a science teacher, I do not intend to engage my classes in discussions about race, racism, and identity. Indeed, as I read the assigned chapter of Helen Fox’s book, When Race Breaks Out, I found myself envious of my peers who will one day be teaching English and Social Sciences to high school students. I am envious not only because the exercises in Fox’s book seem especially relevant for students who are reading To Kill a Mocking Bird, or who are studying the internment of Japanese Canadians during the Second World War, but also because the subject of race and racism in Canada is a fascinating topic to discuss with young people and unfortunately, my subject does not lend itself to this kind of conversation.*

I console myself with the knowledge that there is always the debate team (that is, if I can wrench the coaching responsibilities away from whomever is lucky enough to have them). I was a high school debater and I loved it. I loved it even though, when I found myself at the national debating seminar, the resolution before us was Be it Resolved That Forestry Will Determine This Country’s Future, and I had to argue about the economics of softwood lumber for two weeks. (In the small Ontarian town of Thunder Bay, where the seminar was held, the ups and downs of the forestry industry were front page news.)

All this to say that Fox’s exercises in media analysis and developing anti-racist arguments really spoke to me. This quotation from a Latina undergraduate made me want to stand up and cheer, yes!

I like that you stress knowing facts. No one can fight you when you know better than they do. I’ve noticed a difference in my ability to communicate more concisely and convincingly. I feel like I’ve got a few missiles in my arsenal. (129)

Yes, yes! I love the idea of empowering students with militant ideas. Let them be intellectual terrorists! Let them take no prisoners! Let them learn to debate with each other respectfully and passionately! This is exactly the sort of activity I had in mind when I wrote about teachers having a positive impact on our national dialogue (see October 12th).

And now that I’ve used my entire exclamation mark quota for the day, I'll describe the one of Fox’s activities that I would most like to discuss, and that is the exercise in media analysis. This choice might seem at odds with my excitement about using debating techniques to help students explore racial issues, but I think that being able to analyze media critically and thoughtfully is a prerequisite to good debate. So much of what we know, or think we know about ethnic minorities comes from the media, and if we are not responsible consumers of that information, then we are truly lost.

Fox recommends presenting students with newspaper articles and challenging them to find biases in the reporting. That is, are certain perspectives left out? Are certain religious or cultural groups stereotyped? I would add the questions, How are you able to make that judgment – how do you “know better”? Do you think the bias is intentional or malicious? Who is the reporter and what are his motivations?

This exercise would not only help students to recognize racism, but it would also encourage them to adopt an attitude of skepticism when they read newspapers and watch television. I think this activity would be particularly powerful when done in conjunction with the magazine analysis, where students discuss the differences in how ethnic minorities are represented in the mainstream media and how they are represented in media written for and by their own ethnic communities. This would not only reinforce the exercise in identifying prejudices, but also encourage students to seek variety in their news sources. The group discussions that result from the media analysis can then be used as a launching pad for any of Fox’s activities for developing anti-racist arguments.

There are few disadvantages to these kind of exercises - I would argue that the ability to think critically about what one reads is among the most important skills a student can learn. It’s a passport for understanding the world. That being said, there are some shortcomings of the above activities, if they are done in isolation, and if one’s purpose is to bring students to a heightened sensibility about racial issues.

That is, the media analysis exercises are largely impersonal. Unlike the discussion topics which require students to examine their own racial identity, their own prejudices and the prejudices that others have against them, the object of critique in the media analysis exercises is an outside party. The student may come to a better understanding of the systemic racism that in prevalent in society and in certain groups, but this is easily divorced from the student’s personal experience. If good media analysis is a passport for understanding the world, the student must also have a passport for understanding himself. The latter is better accomplished by an exercise that examines the student directly.

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* In fact, the history of science is filled with examples of racism and sexism. When the science teacher talks about famous experiments and the people who designed them - Einstein, Curie, Bohr, Franklin and the rest - putting these characters into the proper historical context can help make them more real to the students. Particularly for students who feel they are at a disadvantage because of their ethnicity, discussing examples of famous minority scientists might make them more optimistic about their own prospects in science. I think these kinds of discussions would be a small but worthwhile addition to any science curriculum.

Is there an echo in here?

Macleans.ca is running a feature about the breakdown of Canadian tolerance. It's a wonderful piece, paralleling many of my thoughts and concerns exactly. One note of caution: the article is dated October 22, 2007 - next Monday- so you might get stuck in a TIME WARP when you click that link. (Just when you thought I'd forgotten about the musicals... *snigger*)

Also worth reading from Maclean's is this article about Turkish women who forgo a university education because they cannot wear the hijab on campus. This is a brilliant example of why secularism is not a shortcut to social equity, no matter how you spin it.

Is a "cultural mosaic" what we really want, or is that just a poetic analogy we use to make ourselves feel better?

So, did you all stay up to watch the Ontario election? Yeah, me neither. I suspect few people bothered to stay tuned to hear about the easily-predicted victory of Dalton McGuinty, who didn’t even have to break a sweat to win a second mandate with a majority government. His success is being largely attributed to opponent John Tory’s hugely unpopular position in favor of public funding for religious schools.

Grade Two students dribble during gym class at the Our Children Our Hope ISNA Elementary School in Mississauga, September 12, 2007. Photo credit: Steve Russell

As a Quebecer who has been keeping track of the current debate on reasonable accommodation, I cannot help but opine that Ontario’s argument about funding faith-based schools is about more than government-subsidized religious instruction. I think the results speak to the heart of how Ontarians in particular, and Canadians in general, think a multicultural society should operate. And can you believe it? Turns out, we don’t really want to live in Trudeau’s cultural mosaic after all.

A recent SES poll finds that 53 percent of Canadians feel that immigrants should “fully adapt” to the Canadian way of life. In Quebec, 77 percent responded that immigrants should adapt to Quebec and Canadian society. Interestingly, support for reasonable accommodation is weakest in the provinces which are accepting the largest number of newcomers. A separate Léger Marketing poll done exclusively in Quebec shows the opposite trend – that is, support for reasonable accommodation is weakest in the eastern part of the province where people have less contact with minorities. The poll also found that younger Quebecers tend to be the most willing to accommodate religious minorities on certain issues.

From the Montreal Gazette, commenting on the poll:

Why the generation gap? Two reasons, said Sirma Bilge, an assistant professor of sociology at Université de Montréal who has studied the question.

“The younger generation has first-hand experience of diversity,” she said. “And they did not live through the Quiet Revolution. So they tend less to worship French-style secularism and feel less anxious about religious diversity and immigration.”

Young people are also more familiar with minorities in their daily lives - through personal contact, through the media and the Internet, through popular music and travel. Almost half of all 18-to-24-year-olds - 46 per cent - said they're often or occasionally in contact with Muslims, for example. That's three times more than the likelihood among over-65s, only 15 per cent of whom have contact.

“For the young generation, seeing a woman wearing the hijab is no big deal - it's part of the landscape, it's part of diversity,” said Patrice Brodeur, a Harvard-educated religion expert who teaches in Montreal. “And they're asking themselves ‘What's the big fuss?’”

This is exactly the question that I’ve been asking myself lately: What’s the big fuss? The news coverage of the Bouchard-Taylor Commission has left me reeling. Recently, the Quebec Council for the Status of Women has called for an outright ban on all “visible” religious symbols in public institutions (interestingly, the Council feels that a crucifix on a necklace is not “visible” enough to give offense, but hijabs, turbans and yarmulkes will have to go). This same group has called upon the government to amend the Quebec Charter so that women’s rights usurp religious freedoms, and Jean Charest seems amenable to the change.

Now, one could argue that Charest has little recourse but to pander to the worst - and most popular - side of the debate. Since the Hérouxville Manifesto of Intolerance and the ADQ’s sudden rise from obscurity, Charest has been trying to give his party a more nationalist flavor without alienating his Liberal base. Indeed, the appointment of the Bouchard-Taylor Commission can be seen, at worst, as a maneuver by Charest to pass the reasonable accommodation hot-potato during a precarious election season. But then again, perhaps a painfully frank discussion is what this province needs right now, and there can be absolutely no question that the discussion is frank.

What I’m wondering is if we are having the right discussions. Is the issue of frosted windows at the YMCA to accommodate orthodox Jews, or prayer spaces in public places to accommodate Muslims, or Sikh men wearing turbans while they work their RCMP beats really what’s got this province so upset? Are the citizens of Hérouxville really afraid that Muslim families are going to move in and start stoning their wives and daughters to death in the town square?

I suspect not. Goodness, I hope not. I think these issues are just the most visible and easily-sensationalized fronts of a much more abstract battle about values. The equality of men and women is a Canadian value. Democracy and free speech are Canadian values. Increasingly, people would like to consider secularism as a Canadian value as well, though this seems to be at odds with our proclaimed commitment to multiculturalism. We cannot pretend to be open to other cultures and then ask our Jewish doctors to remove their yarmulkes. It just doesn’t work that way.

But I think that in the majority of cases, it’s possible for us to find a way of accommodating religious minorities without compromising our values. What is needed is real leadership from our government, not constant political pandering to whichever side of the argument is biggest and loudest. We also must demand more responsible coverage from our news media, which is wont to sensationalize trivial conflicts in the interests of turning a profit. We need to have a serious discussion about the real issues – not about what people wear on their heads, but about what people believe in their hearts. We need to have an understanding of what the clothing truly signifies before we can make a judgment about whether or not these symbols threaten our way of life. We need to address the fears and misconceptions we have about social segregation and religious extremism before we can take fair and wise steps towards averting these threats to our social peace and national security. At last, we must have a definition of what multiculturalism truly means in Canada.

This conversation will happen in our media, in our communities – in our schools. As teachers, I think we will be in a privileged position to influence the dialogue, not by telling our students how we think the world should work, but by giving them an education they can use to form their own, informed opinions. This is why education is essential to democracy, to peace, and to liberty. And, this is one of the reasons I want to be a teacher.

Diversity worth $12, 870 to some parents…

The New York Times ran an interesting weekend article about parents seeking diversity in their children’s educational experiences. Says a mother whose three-year-old is attending two expensive foreign-language schools, “People who start their children on a language so young understand it’s a multicultural world and they want their children to be part of it.”

The article also discusses the difficulty African-American families face in choosing a school district which offers high-quality schools with a diverse student body. It’s worth a look!

I just got it, on the third shot of espresso!

It’s been a tiring two weeks. True, I’ve been sleeping until noon while the rest of you engage the enemy (I mean, ahem… go off on practicum), but you must understand that my guilt over the whole thing has exhausted me completely. That must be why it took me a few cups of coffee and several replays to appreciate this campaign ad for the Green Party of Ontario.



Get it? ‘Grey’ is Progressive Conservative. But he reminds me of ‘PC’ from the Apple ads! One abbreviation…two different guys… but they’re both squares! Yuk, yuk, yuk! Who says Canadian politics can’t be fun!?

Alright, so what am I on about? Well, there is a provincial election in Ontario on October 10th, and the place of religion in public schools has become an important issue for voters. Should faith-based schools be eligible to receive public funds, providing they adhere to the Ontario curriculum and hire licensed teachers? The aptly-named John Tory, leader of the Progressive Conservatives, says aye. Frank de Jong, leader of the Greens, says nay. And the Liberal incumbent Dalton McGuinty seems content with the status quo, which is a terribly awkward mixture of his opponents’ positions. That is, presently in Ontario, the only religious schools which receive public funding are Catholic schools.

As those of us enjoying the Policy Course know, the funding of the Catholic schools is protected under our Constitution, which in 1867 assured all pre-existing religious schools the right to continue in this tradition. In fact, in 1997 when Quebec sought to reorganize its school boards by classifying them linguistically rather than denominationally, the government had to petition Ottawa for a constitutional amendment allowing for the dissolution of the Protestant and Catholic boards. Newfoundland also asked for and received such an exemption in 1998 so that it could abolish its denominational school system. Today, Ontario is the only province in Canada which continues to fund its Catholic schools to the exclusion of other faiths; every other province either funds all religious schools equally or funds none of them.

The question of how to correct this apparent injustice is not a new one for Ontarians. In 1984, after a decision to extend even more funding to the Roman Catholic high schools, Premier Bill Davis appointed a commission to investigate whether the province’s other faith-based schools should receive public funding. After an extensive one-year study, the commissioner Bernard Shapiro presented a report which suggested that the government extend some public assistance to the private schools, and he included recommendations on how to execute this plan. (As an interesting aside, Shapiro would later become Principal of McGill University, from 1994 to 2002.)

It is perhaps unfortunate that the Ontario government did not act on these recommendations. In 1999, the United Nations Human rights Committee ruled that Ontario’s policy of funding only the Catholic schools is discriminatory, in violation of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which Canada ratified with the consent of all provinces, in 1976. In 2005 the committee censured Canada yet again, for failing to "adopt steps in order to eliminate discrimination on the basis of religion in the funding of schools in Ontario."

What humiliation! Clearly, something must be done. But what? Should the province withdraw public support from the Catholic schools in order to create one public, secular system (as is the case in New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island and Newfoundland)? Or should the province extend partial or full funding to all religious schools (as is the case in Quebec, Alberta, British Columbia, Saskatchewan and Manitoba)?

If anything, Ontarians are leaning towards the latter. This poll reports that 71% of those surveyed oppose the funding of faith-based schools. An especially helpful component of the poll was a breakdown of the reasons for which the respondents answered the way they did (click for larger image):



Of the reasons for opposing faith-based education, I find the spending priority argument to be the least convincing. That is, if religious schools are deserving of public funds, they are deserving of them whether or not those funds are scarce. If there is a burden to be borne, let it be borne equitably, or else let us fund the schools properly.

More interesting to me is the argument that in principle, religion should not be a part of public education and therefore should not be a taxpayer expense. Of course, by funding faith-based schools the taxpayers would not be paying for religious indoctrination in its own right, but rather for an education adhering to the guidelines of the provincial curriculum, being taught in a religious environment. Let us make that very clear; it is an important distinction. Still, mixing religion with taxpayer dollars tends to put people on edge. For instance, when I brought this topic up in conversation a friend of mine scowled and declared, "Separation of Church and State!"

As a self-labelled Godless Liberal, I liked the sound of that. I still like the sound of it, even though I don’t think it works in this context. Canada adopts a policy of religious pluralism, not atheism. If we are to accept that religion is an integral component of culture, and if we embrace a philosophy of multiculturalism (using the Canadian Multiculturalism Act as our guide to building a society cohesive with this philosophy), then does it not follow that we should recognize and support the religious traditions of our communities? Doesn’t imposing secular education on every child (that is, on every child whose parents can’t afford to pay upwards of $600 per month in tuition) contradict our deepest convictions about the value of diversity?

I find these questions very compelling. We expect our government to promote multiculturalism – it is one of the defining ideas of our nation. But to deprive the public educational system of unique schools, diverse schools, specialized schools and yes, secular schools as well (for it is essential to have the correct balance) is I think, to deprive our society of an enormous opportunity for richness and equity.

There is an interesting counterargument, however, which deserves some attention. To wit, a secular school system is essential for a multicultural society to function well. The secular schools provide a common touchstone for a diversity of citizens, giving children of different backgrounds and beliefs a common experience. This commonality and familiarity, presumably, fosters tolerance, and certainly we must recognize that tolerance is of paramount importance. If it is true, as Dalton McGuinty suggests in his campaign video, that funding the religious schools would result in the kind of segregation that would harm the social cohesion of the very multicultural society we wish to propagate, then Tory’s plan must be viewed with great reticence.



But in truth, I do not find McGuinty’s argument entirely convincing. Right now about 30% of Ontario students attend publicly-funded Catholic schools. Has this caused so much damage that the 2% of students who currently attend schools of another religion cannot be accommodated? Surely, Montreal is one of the best examples of a successful multicultural society, and this city has the highest percentage of private schools in North America (in Quebec, the figure is 30%; on the island, it is much higher). I hypothesize that the status-quo is more detrimental to Ontario’s multicultural mosaic than any alternative could be. The blaring unfairness of funding only the Catholic schools probably breeds resentment on the part of minority groups, and rightly so!

In the following video, John Tory makes the argument that the opportunity to receive public funding would act as an incentive to faith-based schools to teach the Ontario curriculum. It is a good point. Right now there are 53, 000 students attending private, faith-based schools with little or no government oversight. Would it not be better to encourage these schools to adopt the standards of education that all other Ontarian students enjoy?



It is possible that my position on this issue is influenced by my own history of having been educated in a Catholic secondary school. I can say with conviction that I did not experience any feelings of segregation. On the contrary, I found the experience culturally enriching. Though, I do not credit the doctrines of Catholicism with the excellence of my schooling; I credit the teachers entirely, and the sense of community and spirit of charity that the faith indirectly encouraged in The Girls. I know some of my former classmates who were much more enriched spiritually than I was. I know others who didn’t like the atmosphere at all, and transferred to another school.

You see, it is not my position that a religious education is preferable to a secular one. What I do believe that it is right to give parents and students the choice. I think that we can have a public school system that is as diverse as the society it seeks to educate, and that there is more than one way to educate a child to the academic standards that Ontario requires of its secular schools. I think that all schools who achieve this standard of academic instruction should be eligible to join the public education community.

To me, this is a very Canadian idea. That is, in my Canada, it is not enough to promote multiculturalism in secular schools while in the same breath imposing that same kind of secularism on everyone who wants a public education. In my Canada, a religiously-minded family does not have to choose between financial security and giving their child an education that reinforces their culture and values. In my Canada, multiculturalism is not whatever results from pooling all the students together into one type of learning environment and calling it “equality,” even if that learning environment is ill-suited for some of those students. Rather, multiculturalism in my Canada flourishes naturally because of public policy that promotes strong communities of diverse citizens who feel welcomed and valued. This is the kind of welcome that fosters patriotism for a new home - or in my case, for an old one. This is the kind of welcome that I would be proud to extend, as a Canadian, to all those who want to be Canadians, too.