Canada’s aboriginal people have become increasingly visible in the past few decades, filing residential school lawsuits, agitating for a role in constitutional talks or supporting the creation of Nunavut. There is a particular concern with redressing past wrongs. As a result, there has been a growing interest in the history of relations between Aboriginals and the federal government. Authors such as J.R. Miller have contributed to this field with comprehensive and accessible books on this topic. Sadly, such works remain overviews, with little opportunity for addressing specific issues, be it residential schools or hunting rights. It remains for texts like A Fatherly Eye to fill in the gaps. Brownlie’s book certainly meets the challenge. Daly began the job when he was forty-nine, after serving in World War One. Coming from Highland ancestry, he felt certain, albeit limited, sentimental ties with the residents on his reserves. Daly was, Brownlie argues, a firm paternalist (49); in effect, he was the embodiment of Kipling’s “white man” — taking care of the people on the reserve was his “burden”. He involved himself deeply in reserve affairs, even when he was not wanted. Those who questioned his authority to do so were termed agitators and ingrates in his correspondence with his superiors. Daly’s chief sources of irritation were the Band Councils, who constantly expressed their dissatisfaction with the status quo, and called for improvements in conditions. Daly took such criticisms personally, not surprisingly, and would retaliate by defaming his critics to the DIA in their correspondence, making their requests and concerns appear “irrational, petty, foolish, and self-serving” (57). Naturally, such dismissal on Daly’s part had an effect on departmental decisions regarding his clients. Personal conflicts also affected Daly’s viewpoint on issues such as education and relief. After Emily Donald, an aboriginal teacher, refused to go to a normal school to upgrade her teaching qualifications, Daly refused to offer such opportunities again (135). When the Depression struck, and many of Daly’s opponents were forced to approach him for relief, he took a delight in forcing them to participate in road-building projects, to settle old scores (119). Brownlie is quick to note that Daly was not without good points, personal vendettas aside. He had a belief in pre-existing rights for aboriginals (along the lines of “they were there first”), and acted on behalf of his clients to get extensions on hunting seasons or for giving his clients preference in guiding licenses, arguing that without such opportunities, there would be suffering amongst Aboriginals (90-91). Daly was also generally generous in providing relief for his clients, obtaining clothing for them, or enlisting his agency in road-building projects (110). Nevertheless, his personal approach to his job caused irreparable rifts in his already rocky relationship with his clients. Robert Lewis, on the other hand, took a low-interventionist approach to his agency. Lewis was a liberal individualist. He involved himself far less in aboriginal affairs, believing his clients to be capable of assuming some responsibility (51). As a result, the band councils in his agency had a greater decision-making power than those in Daly’s, although such decisions were equally susceptible to veto. Lewis was not above getting involved when absolutely necessary. In the 1920s, there were inter-band conflicts in his agency on the issue of treaty annuities. This issue was too big for him to ignore, and yet, when he reported it to his superiors, Lewis reduced the importance of the issue to only a small matter between some agitators and some Jesuits. Ultimately, where Daly would have forced a decision, Lewis took a neutral stance, and the issue remained volatile until …
Appendices
Bibliographie
- J. R. Miller. 2001. Skyscraper Hide the Heavens: A History of Indian-White Relations in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 3rd ed.