It would be remiss of me to write about permaculture—a set of principles that draws heavily from Indigenous knowledge—without acknowledging the land I grow on near Parry Sound, Ontario, and its history before and since colonization.
At the time of first contact with the French in 1615, this was the territory of the Huron-Wendat people. They were later decimated by disease and dispersed by war.
At the time of treaty making, this was the hunting land of an Anishnaabe* people who have been identified by the name “Chippewa”. This is an Anglicization; the more common one is “Ojibwe”. Since this post deals with legal documents relating to this people specifically, and not to all Anishnaabek, I have stuck with “Chippewa”, which was used in the treaties and is still in use today.**
*This spelling is commonly used in this region; elsewhere “Anishinaabe” is more dominant
**In a discussion of cultural matters or of an individual’s identity, it would likely be most correct to use “Anishnaabe” or, ideally, the term of that person’s choice
This land has a complicated treaty history because it was originally included—apparently by mistake—in the 1850 Robinson-Huron treaty, to which the Chippewa were not a party. They spent decades advocating for their claim—decades in which they had no access to the land they depended on, and no payments to offset the loss.
R.V. Sinclair, who wrote a report for the government about the Clippewa’s claim, noted that the delay in settling the issue seemed to result from disagreement between the province and the Dominion about whose responsibility it was. Similar disagreements over which level of government has responsibility for Indigenous matters has continued to cause suffering for the last century.
In 1921, the government decided to clean up its loose ends in Ontario. This may have been because the seizure of unceded lands in British Columbia had sparked public anger across the dominion. There was also some concern that if they continued to delay but ultimately had to come to the negotiation table, the Chippewa might eventually realize just how much the land was worth to the government.
A commission chaired by lawyer A.S. Williams was struck to confirm the Chippewa land claim. The commission proceeded in good faith of a sort, fully intending to agree with the claim and pay the Chippewa an amount comparable to what other nations had received in past treaties. But they were also fully aware that they were negotiating with a people who had already lost their economic and political power to settler encroachment, and they certainly didn’t intend to pay what the land was worth. The committee wrote in its report that the land’s value was “almost incalculable.” They also wrote that they thought they could probably manage to get it for $15 a head.
The Williams Treaties were signed in 1923. Unlike other treaties, they did not include hunting and fishing rights for the Chippewa people. This led to hunger and deprivation worse than before they were signed. Those who continued to hunt and fish outside their reserves were prosecuted by the law.
In 2018 the Canadian government apologized for the Williams treaties, stating, “The Williams Treaties of 1923 were intended to resolve your longstanding claims. Instead, the conclusion of these treaties created continuing injustices—insufficient compensation, inadequate reserve lands, and the inability to freely exercise harvesting rights.”
The settler history on this beautiful land is shameful. We took it by manipulation and then ravaged it for resources. The idea of trying to rectify this history is daunting, especially when I don’t even own the land I live on. But what I can do is continue to educate myself and others, support Indigenous artists and businesses, contribute to land-back funds, and heal the soil I stand on with regenerative practices.
The information in this post comes from: