Strategically placed under the majestically fluttering maple-leaf flag, the art creates the impression that native and non-natives live together in perfect harmony. The reality however, is different.

Native Indian communities of Canada, like many other aboriginal peoples around the world, have struggled against economic, cultural and political forces to preserve their cultural identities.

Deprived of their rights and land, Indians later became essentially the property of the Federal Government. A government that espoused the program of 'assimilation'-changing the culture, religion and language of the native people, so that they would effectively cease to exist as a group.

A key instrument of the assimilation policy was the residential school system. The system, established in 1879, was run by the government with the help of the church. Children were forcefully taken from their parents and communities and placed in residential schools. Here, they suffered untold amounts of daily abuse.

The recent Alberni residential school court case in Vancouver, British Columbia (BC) has brought the horrific issue of residential schools to light once again. The Alberni case is one of the 8000 civil lawsuits brought against the government of Canada and the Christian Church (comprising four denominations ? the United, Methodist, Anglican and Roman Catholic Churches), by native Indians who suffered physical, sexual and mental abuse during their stay at residential schools. More than 700 plaintiffs are involved in such cases.

The Alberni case, which began in February 1998, and ended on July 10th 2001, originally had 28 plaintiffs, of which 21 settled outside of court. The decision was groundbreaking in legal history in that both the Federal Government and the United Church were found vicariously liable for the sexual assaults carried out on students by Mr.Arthur Plint, a former dormitory supervisor. Blame was apportioned 75 percent for the government against 25 percent for the church. The result is currently being appealed.

While the explosion of court cases has certainly helped highlight the residential school issue; the lengthy nature of legal processes, combined with the incessant bickering between the Church and Government as to whom is more to blame, has merely increased frustration in native Indian communities. Many are unable to understand the complexities of the judicial system and while lawyers charge Canadian$150 to $250 per hour, one gets the impression that the real beneficiaries of the court cases are not the claimants.

When dealing with such a sensitive topic, which involves so much money, so many lawyers and such high profile defendants, the real issue of the residential schools can sometimes become clouded. However, it is time that the residential school issue be opened and dealt with efficiently, so that this shameful part of Canada's history can be properly atoned for and resolved.

Residential Schools and their consequences

From 1879 to 1986, over 100,000 native Indian children were forcibly uprooted from their homes and taken to Residential schools. Out of over 100 schools, 14 were situated in BC. Native people did not have the choice of whether to go to the schools. It was illegal for parents to keep their children at home. Once at school, children were forbidden to converse in their native tongue or practice traditional native religion, and any lapses were severely punished. Fear reined in these institutions, cowing the children into isolated silences, while their culture, language and identities were eroded into non-existence.

Harvey Brooks, a retired worker at the Workers Compensation Fund in Vancouver was a student at residential schools for nine years. At six years old, he was taken from his family and placed in the Coqualeetza School in Sardis, BC. He stayed there until the age of nine, when he was transferred to the Alberni School at Port Alberni on Vancouver Island. Brooks never went home after having been placed in the residential school. Neither did he understand until later why he had been placed there. That the federal government was determining their futures was a little known fact to native children at the time.

"I don't think anybody can envision what its like being removed from your home to go to a residential school," said Brooks, who finds it emotionally difficult to remember his years at school. "We were confined to an institution, controlled, told what to do, and if you didn't do it, there was punishment." Indeed Brooks, like many of his residential school classmates, suffered from severe depression and was an alcoholic for many years due in part to his experience suffered at school.

Sexual and physical abuse was rife, and left unreported due to the children's fear of punishment. "You couldn't tell staff what was happening," remembered Brooks, who believed he was the only one being abused at the time. Indeed, fear of punishment stopped the kids from discussing anything, even between themselves. "The church made it very clear: there are some things we don't talk about," said Brooks, who was surprised to find other classmates finally discussing their abuse during their recent court case. "They all thought they were the only ones too."

It is difficult to justify the residential schools even on a scholastic level. The education provided was not up to national standards, and despite a few vocational programs, students were left without the skills needed to function in a modern world. Few could read and write properly. Brooks admits that upon leaving school, he was unable to tell the time; "The only time I knew was 12:00, when the church bells rung."

With little or no health and dental care provided at the schools, children frequently fell ill. The western diet served in the cafeterias was vastly different to what the kids were used to eating and it rotted away their teeth as well as causing them regular dietary problems. Many former residents suffer hearing problems from having been slapped around the sides of their heads. As adults, they find it difficult to function in a modern society; such was the extent of their institutionalization in the schools.

The feeling of abandonment and the fear of adult teachers and administrators combined to give the residential schools kids a distorted set of family values. Taken from their family at an early age, they did not know what it was to be loved by a mother and father. Because they were forbidden to speak their native language, many became unable to communicate with their family on the rare occasions they met with them.

The repercussions of these distorted family values can be seen in many of the dysfunctional native Indian families today.

Indeed, the fact that so many native Indians today suffer from health and social problems could be a product of the harrowing times they spent in residential school (granted, the underlying problem of coping with Caucasian culture as well as many other social and economic factors must also be taken into account). Substance and alcohol abuse is high among the native community, bringing with it the related problems of violence and crime.

Marlon Watts, a counselor and former Alberni resident, attributed his alcoholism to his past experiences. "Somewhere deep in my conscious I know I was trying to sooth the pain of what happened in the residential school."

Suicide rates of aboriginal people are three times higher than those of non-aboriginal people, and among youth, aboriginals are five to six times more likely to commit suicide than their non-aboriginal counterparts. As 45 percent of Indians living on reserves are illiterate, their chances of getting a job are severely reduced, and unemployment is high both on and off reserves. All these factors contribute to a poor state of mental health for today's native Indians. Is there any way to repair this situation?

Apologies.

Recognition that the residential schools were perhaps not an ideal way to raise and educate native children came from the church as early as 1903, when Hugh McKay, a Presbyterian missionary, admitted the schools were trying to, "Educate and colonize a people against their will." Although there was no mention of sexual or physical abuse, church leaders worried about the effects of isolating children from their families and the consequences of the government's policy of assimilation. Yet, an official apology from the United Church was not heard until August 1986, when the General Council admitted, "We tried to make you (the natives) be like us and in so doing we helped to destroy the vision that made you what you were."

The Right Reverend Bill Phipps added to this apology in October 1998, after it had become clear that horrific sexual and physical abuse had been suffered in church supervised schools, and in many cases, had been carried out by church officials themselves. Phipps called the residential school system, "Cruel and ill-conceived," and said that native Indians, "Were and are the victims of evil acts that cannot under any circumstances be justified or excused."

The Canadian government apologized in January 1998 for racist and abusive policies against the native Indian communities. Jane Stewart, the then Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development delivered a 'statement of reconciliation', stating, "Attitudes of racial and cultural superiority led to a suppression of aboriginal culture and values. As a country, we are burdened by past actions that resulted in a weakening of the identity of aboriginal peoples, suppressing their languages and cultures and outlawing spiritual practices."

But were the apologies enough? Certainly, the words were needed, but words alone could not heal the damage done by decades of abuse and intolerance. Indeed, it was Stewart's apology that prompted Chief Robert Joseph to involve himself more with his community to try and heal their ills. Joseph, a former residential school pupil, was angered when he found the apology 'equivocating'. He decided to join the Provincial Residential Schools Project (PRSP), a Vancouver-based organization started in 1995, which supports survivors of residential schools by offering counseling, information and training services. He has been Executive Director there for three years now.

Joseph found that many different Indian communities or individuals were trying to formulate policies to aid the healing and reconciliation processes, or to help native cases in court. Yet the isolation impressed upon natives in residential schools has permeated through to their activities today, isolating their policies so they do not complement each other. The PRSP aims to link the different policies by pooling resources, so that the combined impact of the connected policies will be much greater.

"Our success can only be determined by the ability and willingness of the communities to come together and share information and ideas and work together," said Joseph, who states that the goal of the PRSP is for the majority of any given native community to seek wellness. "There is so much dysfunction in Indian communities. Ill health, alcoholism, violence, suicide. When people begin to realize the need for healing, that will turn the tide."

Indeed, many natives who seek the help of the PRSP are not willing to go through court cases; they merely wish to focus on personal healing. Programs such as suicide prevention, counseling and other life-skills training help them to do this. The PRSP also provides workshops and visits schools to try and awaken community members.

Unaffiliated with the PRSP, yet working along the same lines is Marlon Watts, a counselor with 11 years of experience. A victim of abuse at the Alberni School, he understands first hand the pain that many of his clients suffer. He describes his job as helping people to help themselves. "Once they help themselves, they don't feel so stuck. But in order to do that they need to determine how and why they got there."

Both Watts and Joseph share the opinion that court cases are not always the best way to deal with residential school issues. While Watts admits that the surge of court cases drew attention to the residential school issue, his personal experience in court was harrowing. "If we hadn't started going through this horrific court case, I would have my brother here today."

Watts' brother committed suicide just before the Alberni case verdict, finding the strain and the memories brought up by the court case intolerable.

Watts believes that many native Indians are ignorant of their rights in court and it is unfair to try them in such a setting. He is now trying to spread his newly acquired knowledge about the legal system to native communities. Similarly, Chief Joseph highlights the extreme frustration among Indian communities, who do not understand the nature of court processes. Joseph feels frustrated he cannot do more, but admits he is limited by lack of funding. The Aboriginal Healing Foundation -- a $3.5 million fund set up by the government, financially supports the PRSP. "I am not a healer, I am a bureaucrat," said Joseph modestly. "The only thing I can do is try and bring inspiration."

Working closely with Chief Joseph to help establish a dialogue between churches and school victims, is Susan Lindenburger of the United Church. The church appears to have two faces in this issue, for while lawyers fight tooth and nail to reduce the church's financial and moral culpability in the court cases; people like Lindenburger are actively trying to atone for the church's sordid past.

Lindenburger is the President Elect of the BC Conference Task Force on Residential Schools. In her words, the task force was set up to, "Educate non-aboriginal church people as to what our (the church's) history and involvement in the schools was, why we are being sued and why we need to find ways of cleaning up our act. Not just answering the legal charges, but answering the deeper gospel charges ? what is our relationship with the people who lived here before we came?"

Lindenburger admits that the residential school issue has been a, "Major loss of innocence for the church." Churches tend to think of themselves as always on the side of right, and for congregations to realize that their church was harming people they thought they were helping is a very bitter pill to swallow. Lindenburger organizes workshops and information packets for churchgoers, as well as attending healing circles to listen to and support victims.

Despite Lindenburger's good work, she frequently faces opponents on both sides of the issue. Many native Indians have shunned the church and do not wish to be involved in any church initiatives. This point was illustrated during the recent Alberni trial in Vancouver, when Lindenburger organized free daily lunches for the participants in the case.

She described this as, "A very small act of hospitality in a very difficult situation." While some Indians were eager to meet and eat with church representatives, others openly admitted they could not stomach sitting down at the same table with colleagues of their former abusers.

While Lindenburger understands this point of view, she finds it more difficult when she has to bash heads with her own organization. When the church apologized to the native community in 1986, Lindenburger admits, "We had to fight like heck to get that done! People were afraid of the legal implications of an apology." Indeed, the residential schools cases carry grave financial implications for the church. Many people worried that legal fees and compensation costs would bankrupt the United Church entirely.

"We are in danger of trying to save our money and losing our soul," claims Lindenburger who believes, "The financial implications are grave but the moral implications are even more so."

"When we begin digging into our pockets and into our hearts, we can make progress," she said. "This is not a church problem, and not a native problem. It is Canada's problem."

Can Canada find a solution?

This is not such an easy question to answer. "They are not going to resolve this residential school issue," claims Harvey Brooks. "Even if the claimants get awarded larger settlements, that won't resolve it. So many natives in Canada have been affected by, and 'trained' in the residential school system. They have not been able to look after their family properly and they have been brainwashed into accepting that someone else has to make decisions for them ? be it the church, the government or the Department of Indian Affairs."

However, the outlook is not completely gloomy. Not so skeptical is Chief Joseph, who said, "Someday we are going to resolve this. I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe it." Marlon Watts is also hopeful. "Even though I see people in turmoil," he said, "I also see a new tide of people coming forward and making changes in their life. When you come from where they and I have come from, you have no where else to go but up."

Yet, one point that everyone seems to agree upon is that this is a Canadian problem, and should thus be handled as such. "We (Canadians) got in this mess together, we share a history together, and to get out of this mess, we have to get out of it together too. We need to find ways to move forward," claims Chief Joseph, while Susan Lindenburger states, "Canada as a nation must take responsibility for what it has done."

Brooks believes government-led 'training programs' are ineffective and fail to meet the needs of the native Indian community. He alludes to the greater dilemmas facing his community. "The Indian Act and the government of Canada are the real problems in this issue. They need to address what must be done to atone for their old policies." Trying to resolve the residential school issue without properly dealing with the other abuses suffered by the native Indians throughout history is only solving one facet of a much greater problem.

"We can't just talk about schools, we have got to talk about treaty negotiations, healthcare and so on. The whole history of contact on this continent has to be addressed," said Lindenburger. "It was simply racism and imperialism. Sometimes our racism blinds us into believing that what we are doing is for the good of people. We have to get rid of that notion which is just part of our western European arrogance."

Ways of improving the situation?

Healing the aboriginal people's ills is certainly not an easy task, and will take an unpredictable amount of time. Other than counseling services and native help groups such as the PRSP, other public institutions are trying to do their bit to advance native Indians in modern society. The University of British Columbia (UBC) offers a variety of programs for native Indian students. Among others, the 'First Nations Languages Program', the 'Native Indian Teaching Program' (NITAP) and the 'Institute for Aboriginal Health', aim to integrate aboriginal students into mainstream university education, thus providing them with the skills needed for successful careers later in life.

Dr. Rod McCormick, a former NITAP professor, described the course, formed in 1974 as, "A program to train teachers destined for native Indian communities". Although presumed by other students to be easier than regular courses, NITAP actually has more credits than the usual teaching program, as students must learn aboriginal studies on top of the standard training. Canadian universities run 20 similar programs across the country.

While the results of NITAP appear promising for the aboriginal community-130 students currently enrolled, and many alumni now holding school principle and ministerial positions; McCormick revealed a less positive fact. While native Indians make up 7% of BC's population, they only constitute 1% of UBC students. They are however, more numerous in BC's jails, where 30% of inmates are of aboriginal descent. "This just shows," said McCormick, "You are 30 times more likely to get into one institution than the other."

Alanaise Ferguson, a native Indian from Manitoba, is one of McCormick's PhD students. She believes there is not enough funding for natives who want to study at university. "If you don't belong to a certain band or have protected treaty rights, you are pretty much on your own," she says. She also points out that university admission requires the student to be opportunistic-something that runs against the grain of traditional native culture. "Our culture is more sharing and less 'go get 'em'," states Ferguson, who is lucky enough to have support from her community.

"Education empowers and aboriginals don't have that kind of empowerment," says Ferguson. "It is amazing how hard it is to get here." Ferguson also mentions how the transition to university for a native student is difficult. "(University) is a very inhospitable, cold and uninviting environment for aboriginal people." With little support and lack of understanding about their culture, native students take more time to fit into university life than other students do. Ferguson admits, "It took me three years to understand what the university really wanted."

Yet, while many voices are raised in concern that Canada's universities are doing little to promote native Indian education, other academics take an opposite view. Darian Thira, one of McCormick's colleagues and a current PhD student on native issues suggests, "If the university was to be more effective in inviting aboriginal people in, it would be furthering the active assimilation of the residential schools."

Thira suggests that natives should not be forced to accept what he describes as the 'western world view' and western teaching methods. Instead, he believes universities should offer more outreach programs, where they go into communities and form satellite universities more congruent to the local system. Some universities in the USA have already started projects along these lines, yet UBC is proving inflexible in diversifying its teaching methods.

It is thus difficult to derive a wholly positive or wholly negative conclusion about the residential school situation in Canada. The Government and Church continue to express their regret for the unmentionable harms they caused aboriginal people; while at the same time, they battle one another (as well as the residential school victims) in court in order to save face and pennies in cases where they are both guilty.

Various organizations work to try and better the lives of the native Indians who have been affected by residential schools, yet limits on funding and the sensitive nature of abuse cases makes their work very difficult. Monetary settlements in court may help individuals financially, but money does little to emotionally sooth victims of abuse. The maple leaf flag may fly over all of Canada, but the native Indian and settler European groups remain divided by a painful past of discrimination, intolerance and misunderstanding.