As Denialism Grows, Look to Our History of Coming Together

We can choose which traditions to uphold. Here’s my choice.

Photo by chris robert on Unsplash

Originally published in The Tyee on October 13, 2025

I have been reflecting on National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, the day Canadians pause to commemorate and increase their awareness of the disturbing history and legacy of the Indian residential school system.

Nowhere is the pernicious tradition of colonization in Canada more evident than in the places where residential school denialism resides. They are ugly attempts to erase the experiences of survivors, the memories of thousands of Indigenous people who attended the schools and the stories from the families of the children who never came home.

There is a growing chorus of voices telling Canadians that reconciliation is impossible. They craft a narrative of winners and losers, where recognizing Indigenous rights destabilizes society, unravels our political and legal system, and threatens prosperity.

Yet there is another story. There is another tradition of coming together, of respect and interdependence, of Canadians choosing unity over division.

As someone who exists in the space between, in the dash connecting Indigenous-Crown relations, I need to push back on the idea of winners and losers.

I follow the other tradition and offer a positive and hopeful vision of how we can move forward together.

Courageous coexistence

One of the earliest examples of respectful relationships between Indigenous people and settlers is the 17th-century Two Row Wampum belt created by the Haudenosaunee, also known as the Iroquois Confederacy, and Dutch. Considered a living treaty, the belt consists of parallel rows of purple beads, one representing a Haudenosaunee canoe and the other representing a Dutch ship, moving down the river of life alongside one another, neither interfering in the other’s course.

The belt is an artifact of an ancient covenant to pursue peace, friendship and respect. At a time when fear and distrust could have prevailed, the Haudenosaunee and the Dutch chose coexistence. There is a story here in W̱SÁNEĆ, where I am from, too.

In the mid-19th century, settlers chasing their fortunes began pouring into the Pacific Northwest in search of golden nuggets and cheap land. The W̱SÁNEĆ prepared for war against Fort Victoria. In a meeting with colonial governor James Douglas, the two sides agreed to a peace treaty, again, choosing coexistence.

Contemporaneous courage

There are examples of the other tradition post-Confederation as well.

When then-prime minister Stephen Harper stood in the House of Commons and delivered an apology to residential school survivors on behalf of the Government of Canada, it did not undo the damage caused by the state in its attempt to erase Indigenous identity. However, it was an act of courage by a government admitting wrongdoing.

It was only possible because of the greater courage demonstrated by the residential school survivors who stepped forward, often at great personal cost, to testify to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

This is a poignant example of how even the institutions that carried out the colonizing project, in moments of truth telling and responsibility, can choose to come together.

There are other examples to celebrate as well, like the powerful Indigenous women who started Idle No More, a continental movement for Indigenous sovereignty. Those drumming circles and flash mobs in town squares and on the sides of highways in the freezing Canadian winter pulled Indigenous and non-Indigenous, young and old, rural and urban people together. In those moments unity was chosen over division.

When Tk̓emlúps te Secwépemc Kúkwpi7 Rosanne Casimir stood and shared the news that her community had identified unmarked graves at the former site of the Kamloops Indian Residential School in 2021, it marked the first time that many Canadians confronted the harsh reality that thousands of Indigenous children died in residential schools.

It was an act of courage for Kúkwpi7 Casimir to speak this truth, and it was followed by a visceral response from tens of thousands of Canadians who publicly grieved in solidarity.

Even as our current politicians are doubtful that we can coexist, Gwaii Haanas shows a possible way forward.

Despite disagreement between the Haida and Crowns on who held title to the land, they faced the legacy of anger and bitterness from logging blockades and courageously chose the other tradition.

They could have been paralyzed by impossibility, but like the Two Row Wampum, the two parties set a course together. Rather than endless conflict, they chose shared stewardship, co-operation and co-management of sacred spaces.

Choosing the tradition we uphold

The choice confronting Canadians is whether we cling to the dying colonial carcass, promoting a politics of denial, division and fear, or whether we draw from the countless other examples of the deep legacy of co-operation and respect such as that which is codified in the ancient beaders’ handiwork for the Two Row Wampum.

In each of these moments, there are people seeing division and choosing unity, seeing suffering and choosing to heal.

Our history provides us examples of two traditions: one of exclusion, and one of inclusion. There is no requirement to choose colonial injustice; when faced with these moments, we can choose the other tradition.

Reconciling the space between Indigenous People and the Crowns requires each one of us to decide which tradition aligns with our values. And which tradition will result in the best country Canada can be.

Originally published in The Tyee on October 13, 2025