A First Nation by any other name?

What to call aboriginal Canadians? Not "aboriginal", say some


DESPITE a promise of no surprises after winning the May 2nd Canadian election, Stephen Harper, the prime minister, delivered one on May 18th. He unilaterally decided that Indian and Northern Affairs Canada, a federal ministry, should henceforth be called Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development. His rationale was to make the ministry's name more modern and inclusive, but the seemingly slight change alarmed the very people the ministry is meant to serve—the 1.2m Canadians whose ancestors were on hand when the first Europeans touched shore in the 9th century.

What to call indigenous groups is intensely political in Canada, reflecting the power struggle over land, resources and government funding between these groups and the government and also among the groups themselves. Complicating the matter is a lack of consistency on naming that makes the area a minefield for non-indigenous Canadians who may not be up to date on what is and is not an acceptable term. In this way it is similar to shifting terminology in America for African-Americans.

The Indians referred to in the ministry's former title, many of whom have cross-border cousins among the Native Americans of the United States, decided several decades ago that they would rather be known as First Nations. It was both a symbolic casting off of the colonial yoke and a not-too-subtle reminder that they were here first. Their organisation, the National Indian Brotherhood, changed its name officially to the Assembly of First Nations in 1982. But not all of the 600-plus bands that belong to the group have gone along with the change, and some others use both terms interchangeably. One of the harshest critics of Mr Harper this week was Guy Lonechild, chief of the Federation of Saskatchewan Indian Nations, who peppered his discourse with references to what it might mean to First Nations.

The First Nations are the largest of Canada's three indigenous groups—the last census counted 700,000—the other two being the Métis and Inuit. The First Nations, however, are the only ones who negotiated treaty rights with the Crown when Canada was still a British colony. Their prime concern is that the switch in the name of the ministry foreshadows a change in government policy that will undermine their traditional rights. Thus they found themselves in the unusual position of defending a name that most of them had rejected. Their grand chief Shawn Atleo says he will be seeking clarity from the prime minister to ensure the new name “accurately reflects the relationship between First Nations and the Crown.”

The Inuit, who do not use the term "First Nations" to describe themselves, seem prepared to keep an open mind. With about 50,000 members scattered across the vast Canadian Arctic and sub-Arctic, this group historically felt the ministry was, as its title suggested, focused on Indians. (In fact, the First Nations' use of "first" miffs the Inuit a bit, for the obvious reasons.) Their national organisation, the Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, presciently released a primer on correct terminology prior to the cabinet shuffle on May 18th. But it was not because they knew of the name change—none of the aboriginal groups was consulted. It was because they feared that the media, often woefully uninformed on these matters, would decide that Peter Penashue, an Innu from Labrador who had been touted as a possible minister, was an Inuit when in fact the Innu are a First Nation.

The primer noted that Inuit (which means “the people” in their native language of Inuktitut) is the contemporary term for Eskimo (which means eater of raw meat). But while all Inuit are Eskimos, not all Eskimos are Inuit. Eskimos also includenortherners in the United States and Russia who do not speak Inuktitut. This distinction was lost on the early European explorers, who lumped everyone together. Much like the term Indian fell out of favour because of its colonial and sometimes pejorative overtones, Eskimo has slipped from popular usage in Canada. But nothing is ever straightforward. Some younger Inuit have taken to using the term, believing it has street cred. And while Inuit in Canada prefer to stick to their modern name, across the border in Alaska there are those who identify themselves quite happily as Eskimo.

The Métis, people with both aboriginal and European ancestry, have so far been quiet about Mr Harper's nomenclature surprise. Although they are the second-largest aboriginal group, with an estimated 400,000 members, they have struggled for recognition. Like the Inuit, they are likely to benefit if the change in the ministry's name means there is greater focus on their concerns.

Whether this will happen is unclear. The ministry, which was caught off-guard by the prime ministerial whim, said in a rather terse release following the cabinet shuffle that there will be no impact on the department's mandate or the responsibilities of the minister. The ministry's website was still sporting its old name on May 19th. You could almost hear the bureaucrats huffing in the last line of the release: “The new name of the department will be fully implemented in due course.”

Sadly, the debate over the name change distracted from what should have been a cause for celebration among Canada's aboriginal peoples: for the first time in history the cabinet includes an Innu minister. He and the Inuit health minister are two of a record seven aboriginal MPs elected May 2nd.

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