After decades of a David versus Goliath struggle with the federal government, three small Innu nations are on the verge of securing a land claim settlement unlike any other in Canadian history.
The treaty would see the First Nations and Quebec governments co-manage a territory 16 times larger than the island of Montreal — setting aside certain areas for conservation and opening others up to mining partnerships with the Innu.
It would also guarantee royalties of at least three per cent for the group on all development within their vast traditional territory — centred in Quebec’s Saguenay and Côte Nord regions. The Innu would retain exclusive hunting, fishing and logging rights on most of the 8,000-square-kilometre land mass.
And unlike previous federal land claim settlements, the Innu nations of Essipit, Mashteuiatsh and Nutashkuan wouldn’t have to surrender title over their traditional territory. They wouldn’t be subject to the Indian Act and would have a level of self-government seen in just a handful of reserves across Canada.
Having title implies self-government, autonomy, full and total control over their land. It’s huge
The proposed treaty gives communities control over their children’s schooling, deputizes aboriginal park rangers to enforce Innu hunting laws and creates measures to safeguard the preservation of their language and culture.
“Even with the James Bay Agreement — which probably made the (Quebec) Cree the most powerful aboriginal organization in Canada — there was a surrender of title,” said Daniel Salée, a political-science professor at Concordia University. “Having title implies self-government, autonomy, full and total control over their land. It’s huge.”
But there is a catch.
Within 12 years of ratifying the agreement, most federal subsidies to the three reserves would expire. The Innu could counteract those losses by levying their own property and income taxes from band members. There’s also an acknowledgement, by the Innu, that much of their traditional territory has permanently been lost to the growth of cities populated by non-Aboriginal settlers.
“As in any negotiation, there’s give and take, but we have a chance at something huge here,” said Raoul Kanapé, a member of the Innu negotiating team. “If we reach a deal, the Indian Act is over. We’re taking care of ourselves now and if we make a mistake it’ll be ours and no one else’s. This is what independence looks like.”
Kanapé and his colleagues expect they’ll reach an agreement in principle with the federal and provincial government by March 31. Meanwhile, a representative from the Minister of Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development said in an email to the Montreal Gazette the government is “optimistic” they’ll reach a deal soon.
The potential for a treaty comes after rounds of negotiations that, at times, devolved into a war of attrition between the parties.
When the bargaining began over 30 years ago, nine band councils were at the table, representing Atikamekw and Innu communities across the province. But after years of stalled talks and broken deals, only three aboriginal communities are left at the table.
We had one point we would not budge on
“The reason it took so long is we had one point we would not budge on: no matter what, we weren’t going to cede our land or our title,” said Marc Chaloup, who represents the Essipit Innu. “Every land claim settlement ends with the federal government forking over money and an aboriginal community surrendering title. That was unacceptable to us.”
Chaloup said surrendering title would make his group vulnerable to lawsuits from non-Aboriginal groups, contesting the transfer of federal lands back to the Innu. But resistance has come at a price; the three small band councils have racked up over $40 million in debt for lawyers and land-use studies.
If an agreement is reached, the group would also have to turn around and sell it to the 7,500 band members it represents. After an information campaign, which could take up to two years, the three communities would hold a referendum on the matter.
“Even though we’ve been at the table for 30 years, the real work will be to win the referendum campaign,” said Chaloup. “If people turn the treaty project down, it’s back to the drawing board.”
Though the communities came within reach of a treaty in 2004, the provincial government turfed it amid protests from surrounding non-Aboriginal communities.
“We’ve had people protest in neighbouring communities — they took to the streets and yelled, ‘No treaties for the Innu,’ ” said Chaloup. “They carried signs that said, ‘No to the treaty.’ They lobbied the government. It was rough, but we’re past that.”
In the decade since those loud protests, the Innu’s bargaining position has only strengthened. In 2014, the Supreme Court of Canada awarded the Tsilhqot’in First Nation title over 1,700 square kilometres of land in British Columbia. Though the settlement came through a court case and not the land claim process, experts say it changed the way Canada negotiates with its aboriginal people.
There is an economic incentive that’s helping the Innu gain acceptance of the deal among their non-Aboriginal neighbours. In Essipit, more than 50 per cent of the people who work for the band council are non-Aboriginals from Les Escoumins and other neighbouring cities. Essipit’s band council has also invested in a local sawmill that’s a huge employer in the region.
The Innu have also helped pay to refurbish the ferry between Tadoussac and Trois-Pistoles and they’ve partnered with nearby communities on a whale watching business and other ventures.
In a region where unemployment consistently floats between 12 and 15 per cent, Chaloup says these partnerships have opened a lot of peoples’ eyes.
“We know there’s hard times here and our region is hurting, so we’re trying to be an economic engine,” he says. “We work with people, we want to be good, respectful neighbours. When that happens, everybody wins.”
The deal would give Essipit — a reserve of just 100 acres — the option to buy a 1,400-acre chunk of property from nearby Grande-Bergeronnes on a willing-buyer, willing-seller basis. Whatever new land the Innu acquire will be subject to their bylaws, enforced by an aboriginal court system.
Perhaps the most significant development for non-Aboriginals in this potential treaty is that it appears to offer a blueprint for natural resource extraction on Innu territory. Though the agreement gives Quebec the right to lease sections of the traditional territory for mining, the province can’t undertake any project without the Innu’s consent and participation.
In Nutashkuan, the Innu could have the option to partner with Quebec in developing and profiting from a 50-MW hydroelectric dam. This, too, would be subject to cooperation and consent from the First Nation.
Though the potential treaty will likely be a lucrative one for the nations — Kanapé’s group estimates its cash value in the hundreds of millions — the idea of achieving sovereignty is what kept him going through years of white-knuckle bargaining.
“We’re not doing this for us, it’s for our children and our grandchildren,” he says. “We want to give them something to be proud of.”