The principle of Jordan’s Principle

Last year we ran an editorial condemning a shameful backlog in the processing of Jordan’s Principle requests, a delay with real consequences for First Nations children in Canada. But now we see that was just setting the stage for an unacceptable about-face from this government, which once again is letting its hypocrisy show.

A person is nothing without their principles, and it doesn’t get much more sacred than Jordan’s Principle, a promise to Onkwehón:we children that their needs will be met, first and foremost, and the rest will be figured out later.

Given the government’s many failures when it comes to living up to its legal and moral obligations over the years, it’s tempting to call it a better-late-than-never promise - after all, it emerged just a couple decades ago - but that would be too glib.

After all, it came too late for Jordan River Anderson of Norway House Cree Nation, after whom the program is named, and countless like him. Jordan died in hospital as a young child as the province and federal government argued for years over who would pay for his care, having never spent time in his own community.

Thus Jordan’s Principle emerged as an acknowledgment of the government’s duty to uphold the human rights of Indigenous children - a step in the right direction, even if it took ages for the government to plug holes in the program’s implementation.

When the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal ruled in 2016 that Canada’s delivery of services to First Nations children was discriminatory, Jordan’s Principle was a natural vehicle for many of the needed reforms.

But equity is elusive, which is one reason Jordan’s Principle needed to grow to address many of the government’s shortcomings in providing services to First Nations, some of which could have been, should have been addressed in other ways - but weren’t.

That’s why Jordan’s Principle has emerged as a last line of defence against government indifference to this land’s rightful stewards: the next seven generations of Onkwehón:we.

If a child is living on reserve in a mold-infested home, is it not in the interests of equity that the government reverse its neglect and support renovations? If the home is overcrowded because housing is scarce, has Canada not failed to ensure access to enough quality housing?

For years, the program accepted these needs as falling under the mandate of Jordan’s Principle, encouraging people to apply. Yet now Indigenous Services Canada (ISC) has pulled the rug out from children who need a safe place to call home, among tons of other equity measures, unless the request meets a narrower definition of meeting a child’s health, social, or educational needs.

Some might argue a broader understanding of these goals goes beyond the parameters or intention of the program or even the government’s responsibilities, but those people would be missing the point entirely.

First, let’s start with the almighty dollar, the bottom line for centuries in this country. After all, we’re not talking about what Canada should give to Indigenous children. We’re talking about what they are owed.

Canada boasts that it has pledged nearly $9 billion to meet the needs of First Nations children through this program since 2016.

Sure, that sounds like an impressive sum, even if there are individuals in this greedy world that could pay that many times over. But think about it another way. What is the value of all that heel-digging perpetrated by colonial power on Tiohtià:ke alone, which is unceded Kanien’kehá:ka territory?

We’re talking about all those houses, condos, and skyscrapers dotting Montreal; the land they sit on that was handed down across generations as the beneficiaries of colonialism built networks of wealth denied to Mohawk children.

Here’s the thing: the Montreal area alone has a gross domestic product (GDP) of more than $200 billion a year. The value of the land where that productivity happens is obscene. And all that real estate is generating tax bills that boggle the mind.

How much is all the property in Canada worth? That’s measured in trillions, plural.

In other words, $9 billion over eight or nine years is a drop in the bucket from a country whose existence is predicated on land theft from coast to coast.

And how to square up the ISC announcement with the stated goal of Jordan’s Principle: “that First Nations children have substantively equal access to government services, taking into account their distinct circumstances, experiences, and needs.”

The fact is, expenditures on competitive sports and travel can go a long way to ensuring that First Nations children have the same opportunities as children off the reserve have or should have.

No one, including Cindy Blackstock of the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society, is saying every single request should be approved under the program, but if there are backlogs, the government should fund the administration of the program to keep up with requests, not start dismissing categories of them.

And if the government isn’t convinced the Jordan’s Principle program is the right way to approach it, then it needs to step up and say what it’s going to do instead to make sure every Indigenous child in this country has the opportunity to fulfill their potential and live a happy, healthy life that should be their birthright.

TED Staff