OPINION
Monday, November 17, 2014 7
The Canadian Museum for Human Rights...
for whom?
Osgoode’s Trip to Winnipeg
audra ranalli › contributor
F
rom october 24th to 26th, a 22-person
Osgoode group went to Winnipeg to visit the
newly opened Canadian Museum for Human
Rights. Our group consisted of the twelve students in the Anti-Discrimination Intensive Program,
ADIP directors Michelle Mulgrave and Bruce Ryder,
visiting professor Jeffery Hewitt, artist-in-residence
Julie Lassonde, and six other passionate Osgoode students selected through an application process.
We supplemented our engagement with the
“official” version of human rights presented at the
museum by learning about the lived experiences of
Aboriginal people in Winnipeg. To that end, we spent
a day at Winnipeg’s Indian and Métis Friendship
Centre. Julie Lassonde’s two performances during the
trip helped us engage with the emotional and creative
aspects of law and human rights struggles. Finally, we
explored the academic side of human rights issues by
visiting the Centre for Human Rights Research and
the Canadian Journal of Human Rights, both housed
at the University of Manitoba.
Since the outset, controversy has brewed around
the Canadian Museum for Human Rights. Some
people were angry about the museum’s alleged failure to properly address Canada’s treatment of aboriginal peoples – in particular, their refusal to label that
treatment as genocide. Concerns about political interference with curatorial independence surfaced. While
the museum officially opened in September, it turned
out that only a fraction of the exhibits were open to
the public at the time of our visit.
Despite these reports, I believed that the museum
would be, by and large, a good thing – perhaps not
the greatest step forward, perhaps just a baby one, but
nevertheless, something positive. Like many others, I
hoped the museum would contribute to public awareness and advance important dialogues about ongoing
human rights challenges. In particular, I hoped to see
an honest acknowledgment of Canada’s former and
current shameful treatment of Aboriginal peoples.
Having seen the museum, I am very sorry to say
that I did not see the honest acknowledgment I was
looking for. Surely, the museum is beautiful. The
building is monumental, powerful, and stunning.
Galleries formed
by smooth, curved
and angular stone
are connected by upward sloping walkways; the space
is increasingly filled with natural light as one ascends.
But to me, its smooth surfaces gloss over things that
should be exposed-, ugly things. It puts Canadians in
a celebratory mood, a mood not yet deserved, an inappropriate mood, in my opinion.
That said, we weren’t able to see many important exhibits in the museum, including one detailing
Canada’s “steps and missteps” on the road to human
rights (as the museum’s website puts it), and an
exhibit examining mass atrocities around the world.
Perhaps what I wanted to see is in those exhibits. Thus,
my perception is based on incomplete information,
and it may change when I see those exhibits. And, as
Professor Karen Busby reminded us, the museum’s
ê The group takes a break in the Israel Asper Tower of Hope, at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights.
Photo Credit: Bruce Ryder
opening does not mark the end of its development but
merely its beginning. Like human rights themselves,
the museum must perpetually progress. A forthcoming collection of essays we were able to read, The Idea
of a Human Rights Museum, makes important contributions to ongoing critical conversations.
The Canadian Museum for Human Rights
In the main hall, visitors begin by hearing their tour
guide acknowledge that we are on Treaty 1 territory. A
good start. We learn that the museum is built directly
on a traditional meeting place for First Nations people,
who have been meeting at the intersection of the Red
and Assiniboine Rivers for at least eight thousand
years. Eight thousand. Now, we meet here.
I wonder about
the mutual understandings that
underlie Treaty 1.
What was promised in exchange
for the government’s facilitation of settlement on this
land? Was this type of land use contemplated? Did our
government honour the agreement? Are we honouring the terms today?
These questions hang poignantly in the air, but are
not addressed by the museum or the guide. Instead,
we rush quickly to the next exhibit, which asks us,
“What are human rights”? Significant individuals
and atrocities in human rights history are described
and depicted on panels along one long wall, in a dark,
large, lengthy exhibit space.
Midway through this long hall is a beautifully
carved box with sad faces on it. It is displayed low
down. I have to stoop to read the label’s small print,
which identifies the object as being the Truth and
“. . . no object or text describes
the Treaty here.”
Reconciliation Commission’s Bentwood Box, and lists
the artist’s name, Coast Salish artist Luke Marston. I
know this box was used to gather terrible stories of
Canada’s violations of First Nations human rights.
Why is this box so low down, I wonder? Where is the
context? Where are the stories? (Perhaps they are in
one of the currently unopened exhibits). I worry that
visitors who don’t know much about the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission might stroll by, thinking
no more than how pretty that piece of First Nations art
is.
Thanks to curator Armando Perla, who graciously
hosted our visit to the museum, we were also the
first members of the public to visit an exhibit called
‘Protecting Rights in Canada’. The purpose of the
exhibit is to showcase the constitutional foundations on which Canada rests. Several key documents
are displayed, including the Royal Proclamation of
1763 and the Proclamation of the Canada Act, 1982.
But where is the Treaty of Niagara of 1764? The Royal
Proclamation can’t be understood without understanding this treaty, which illustrates the First
Nations’ understanding of the Proclamation. We
know their understanding of the Proclamation was
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