A Legacy That Haunts Me: A Personal Reflection on Cultural Genocide and the Ties That Bind Us

As I write, I am filled with sadness and a sense of illness. A video sent to me on Twitter initially seemed like just another far-fetched conspiracy theory, but as I dug deeper, the reality set in. 

 

The video captured a 1965 interview with Robert J. Carney, a Catholic educator and federal day/Indian residential school principal in the Northwest Territories, who described Indigenous children as "culturally retarded." His words, though reflective of the time, were harsh then—and remain unforgivable today. Carney explained that “culturally retarded” referred to children from Native backgrounds who hadn’t attended school regularly or were behind in their studies. His words were steeped in ignorance and systemic racism—language that was damaging then and remains damaging now.

 

As I reflect on these words, I can’t help but wonder: Do people see me the same way? Do they consider all Indigenous people "retarded" because of our identity? These thoughts haunt me, especially when I think back to my time in Parliament. I fought an election that many thought I couldn’t win, and yet, we triumphed. But even in victory, I faced constant reminders that my space was limited to Indigenous issues alone. “This is your space; don’t speak outside of it,” was the unspoken rule I faced within the Liberal party. Whenever the media sought a comment from me, it was always on Indigenous issues. My contributions outside these boundaries were dismissed.

 

Years of proving myself, building a resume I thought would stand on its own, felt minimized to “you’re good on this one thing.” I constantly had to fight for a seat at the table where my voice was valued—not just as an Indigenous person, but as a human being with thoughts and opinions that mattered beyond my heritage. This reality became even clearer when I realized that people like Mark Carney—despite his father’s controversial legacy—are not bound by these limitations. His father’s ties to the system of cultural erasure in the Northwest Territories are undeniable. How much of Carney’s perspective is shaped by his father’s legacy?

 

Carney’s legacy is tangled in colonial history. While we may not be responsible for the actions of our parents, we must acknowledge their impact on shaping the present. The scars of residential schools, day schools, and the destruction of our languages and cultures run deep, passed down through generations.

 

Mark Carney has a chance to shape the narrative moving forward. I wonder how he will approach the reckoning that is long overdue. Will he address the harms of the past in a meaningful way? Will he work toward reconciliation, not just as a political gesture, but as a genuine commitment to undoing the legacy of cultural genocide still affecting Indigenous peoples? And perhaps, could he stop talking about Trump as if he’s the only thing that matters? Indigenous struggles are often sidelined, and it’s time for leaders like Carney to give these issues the attention they deserve.

 

The truth is, the reality of these atrocities is often swept under the rug. We are told to move on, but the past continues to haunt us. As an IRS survivor’s child, I am constantly reminded of the life my father never had. His experiences shaped his world in ways I can never fully understand. But what I can do is ensure that his legacy—his resilience—is honored. I strive to live the life he never had the chance to live. I strive to be good to my children, offer help to those in need, and contribute to my community.

 

When I watch videos like the one about Robert Carney, I feel grief and anger. This history is not something we can easily forget, nor should we. Even today, many Indigenous peoples still face the consequences of a system designed to destroy our culture, language, and identity.

 

I understand why Carney, when he came to Winnipeg on April 1, could not use the word “Indigenous” in his speech. For so long, terms like “Indian,” “Native,” or “culturally retarded” have been used to define us in a way that was not our own. The reluctance to embrace the term “Indigenous” reflects discomfort in confronting the truth of what these terms represented—a system built on the destruction of our cultures, erasure of our languages, and undermining of our identity. But as much as I understand why the word may have been avoided, I feel it’s time to stop hiding behind these old terms. It’s time to reckon with the past.

 

Why did Robert Carney leave the Northwest Territories when Mark was six? Was it because he didn’t want his children attending school with what he referred to as the "culturally retarded"? Did they sit around the dinner table, and if Mark asked why they no longer lived in the NWT, was the answer simply that they wanted him to have "better opportunities, better friends"? What motivated the decision to leave, and how did this decision, tied to his father’s work, shape Mark’s understanding of Indigenous peoples?

 

In education, there is the written curriculum and the unwritten curriculum—the words left unsaid. Which is more important? Stephen Harper once said it wasn’t the major decisions that mattered, but the 150 decisions a leader makes throughout the day. How was Carney shaped by the subconscious values in his life?

https://ici.radio-canada.ca/espaces-autochtones/2154487/robert-carney-enfants-autochtones-heritage 

Mark Carney Came to Winnipeg — and Forgot Indigenous Peoples

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.

https://ici.radio-canada.ca/espaces-autochtones/2153752/mark-carney-campagne-maniotoba-reconciliation