Mark Carney came to Winnipeg. Three First Nations chiefs in full headdress stood proudly in the middle of a room filled with over 800 people. They waited patiently. They listened carefully. They stood with dignity, hoping for a signal — just a few words — that they were seen, that they were heard, that they were part of Mark Carney’s vision for Canada. But not a single Indigenous word was spoken. His speech, curiously delivered one day after the National Day of Indigenous Languages, never once mentioned reconciliation, Jordan’s Principle, MMIWG, or the ongoing search for the missing and murdered women believed to be in the Prairie Green landfill just north of Winnipeg.
Instead, Carney said: “The shock of this betrayal. But we should never ever forget the lessons — we have to look out for ourselves.” He was not talking about Canada’s betrayal of Indigenous peoples. He was not placing himself in the moccasins of First Nations. He was speaking of himself. Of Donald Trump. Of economic power, global markets, and his personal journey. The words fell flat in a place called Manitoba, a name rooted in Cree: manitôhkân, a place of spiritual power.
Where has Mark Carney been the last few years? He may be a man of global finance and polished speeches, but he seems to have missed the most important story Canada has been telling itself: the unfinished business of reconciliation. A story about healing, truth, justice, and the hope that Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples can walk forward together in dignity and mutual respect. To show up in Manitoba and not mention Indigenous peoples — especially with three hereditary chiefs standing right in front of him — is a political oversight of monumental proportions. It’s also deeply personal.
As a former Member of Parliament, I’ve seen many leaders come and go. Some speak of reconciliation as a checklist. Others have tried — truly tried — to understand what it means to rebuild trust and nation-to-nation relationships. Mark Carney, for all his global experience, seemed unaware of the room he was standing in. Unaware of the land. Unaware of its history.
If Mark Carney hopes to earn a mandate from Canadians, it cannot come simply from convincing Liberal insiders or appealing to disillusioned NDP voters. He must also convince Indigenous peoples that they matter — that they will not be forgotten once the ballots are counted and the speeches fade. But after this speech, maybe Indigenous people will choose to stay home. Maybe they will resist. Maybe they will see his possible majority government not as a triumph of democracy, but as another chapter in a long story of being ignored. If this is the beginning of his campaign, perhaps the best Canada can hope for is a minority government — one that forces Carney to listen, to consult, to learn.
Jean Chrétien once told me in the House of Commons, “Sometimes it’s better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.” He chuckled when he said it. But it left me wondering then — and now — who is Mark Carney? If he’s serious about leading this country, he must recognize that Indigenous peoples are not a checkbox or a photo opportunity.
We are nations. We are families. We are leaders. And we are voters. When you come to Manitoba — when you come to manitôhkân — you don’t have to say everything. But say something. Acknowledge the nations who were here before Confederation, who signed treaties, who defended this land, and who still hope — against the odds — that Canada can be a place of justice for all.
Reconciliation is not just an ideal. It’s a responsibility. And silence is not neutrality — it is a choice. Mr. Carney, if you want to lead this country, don’t just talk to bankers and party faithful. Speak to the people who have long been left out of the Canadian dream. Speak to us. Or at the very least, notice when we’re standing right in front of you.