Ideas - Indigenous Journalist Calls for a Revolution of Genuine Action

Episode Date: February 6, 2025

Award-winning journalist and author Brandi Morin says reconciliation in Canada is on life support. She's calling for a revolution against the apathy and ignorance that she says keeps Indigenous people from healing and succeeding.

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No, I'm media. I'm not going behind the lines. I'm here to document this. I am not going behind the lines. Journalist Brandi Moran attempting to cover a protest at a logging site in an old growth forest on Vancouver Island in August of 2023. She was not arrested at the time. Several months later, she was covering the dismantling of an indigenous homeless camp. Police are preparing to move in. This is an indigenous unhoused camp here in Edmonton. There are actually children here. There is a ceremonial space here.

She was arrested later that day, taken to an Edmonton, there are actually children here. There is a ceremonial space here. She was arrested later that day, taken to an Edmonton jail for five hours and charged with obstruction. The charges were withdrawn a few months later. Brandy Morin is an award-winning Cree, Iroquois, and French journalist and author. Her work covering Indigenous issues in Canada and other countries has garnered her

awards from PEN Canada, the Canadian Association of Journalists, and Amnesty International, among others. In November 2024, she delivered the 10th Annual Indigenous Speakers Series Lecture at Vancouver Island University. The series is presented by the university and by Ideas. I was there along with a robust live audience and several hundred listening online. Brandy Moran's talk is titled, "'Indigenous Truth in the Face of Power,' a Journalist's Call to Action."

(*applause*) Tansi, hello everybody. I stand before you today not just as a journalist, but as a daughter, a mother, who has witnessed both the promises and betrayals of reconciliation in Canada. What I'm about to share isn't comfortable. But then again, comfort has never birthed change. Let me be direct. Reconciliation in Canada right now is on life support.

in Canada right now is on life support. We're witnessing something I never thought possible in modern Canada. A violent backlash against truth. The truth that I thought we had been working hard to unleash for all these years across our country. I know this truth intimately, both as a journalist and as a survivor of some of the systems that were fighting to change. Picture if you will a little girl in Western Canada riding horses and climbing hay bales. That was me once upon a time. I was dazzled by my beautiful parents, caught up in the simple joys of childhood. But beneath those idyllic memories lay a darker reality, the legacy of intergenerational trauma.

On my mother's side, from the rounding up of my ancestors onto concentration camps called reserves, the residential school system, and in my family's case, the corrupt enfranchisement of our nation, the Michelle Band. My beloved Kokum, my grandmother, she a residential school survivor, a survivor of the war against her literal bloodline, the colonialist agenda that's been ongoing since Europeans set foot on this continent. The government's attempt to kill the Indian in the child left deep scars that echoes across generations.

I remember sitting at Cookeham's kitchen table. Cookeham and I were very close, watching her hands shake as she would sip her coffee at times. I sensed the pain that she carried from the trauma of her childhood, of her ancestors, but she couldn't express it. She would only refer to things such as the residential school as the convent. It would be years later that I would learn what that meant. These legally sanctioned institutions designed to destroy Indigenous families and cultures. The residential school system was not just a legal framework of cultural genocide. While some deny residential schools and insult survivors on social media, it's a free for all.

Indigenous land offenders are being criminalized for protecting their territories all over Turtle Island. First Nations children are still fighting for the same education funding that other Canadian children receive without question. We know the statistics many of our communities still can't drink their tap water. Our women and girls continue to disappear while society looks away. We know that it was named a genocide in 2019, yet the numbers of our sisters lost to this violence continues to rise.

Treaty rights are violated daily across this country. this violence continues to rise. Treaty rights are violated daily across this country. Languages are dying as funding promises go unfulfilled. These aren't just failures of reconciliation. It's active resistance to it. Like many native children across this country, I've had experiences in the foster care system. I ping ponged between my family, foster homes, and group homes. I remember one particularly dark night at a group home

when I was 12. I had run away seeking escape from the suffocating confines of institutional care. Instead, I found myself trapped in an apartment, subject to a week of horrific assaults. When I finally escaped with my life and told my caseworker, her response to me was, that's what happens when you take off. Don't do it again. And that moment stayed with me. These days when I'm doing the work that I do, it's a stark reminder of how easily our women and girls can be dismissed, blamed, or forgotten. By 18, I was giving birth while locked in a psych ward.

The cycle of trauma seemed endless at the time. But here's the thing about cycles. They can be broken. My healing journey was a winding path of setbacks and breakthroughs. I had tried various interventions to help, medications, electroshock therapy. But it wasn't until I reconnected with my creator, with the truth, my heritage, and found a compassionate therapist that things began to shift. I want you to picture another girl, just 15 years old. Her name was Tina Fontaine. She was failed by the child welfare system.

Like me, she was vulnerable and alone. Unlike me, Tina didn't survive. Her small body, wrapped in a duvet cover and weighed down with rocks, was pulled from the Red River in Winnipeg in August 2014. I visited with Tina's auntie Thelma Fayvel, who raised her. I've sat in Tina's room where she used to paint her nails and watch crime shows on TV.

I've watched Thelma cry by the traumatic losses of not only her daughter, but other relatives. But the parallels between our stories haunt me. Two Native girls, both in the child welfare system, both exposed to the same dangers. I lived to tell my story. Tina's story had to be told by others. One thing that I learned along the way is that every crisis facing Indigenous people today is connected to colonial agendas and our failure at genuine reconciliation. The violence against our women and girls

and against Indigenous lands and injustice are inseparable. Both stem from the same colonial mindset that views indigenous people and indigenous rights and lands as exploitable resources. And I've witnessed this connection firsthand. In Witsuwet'en territory, for example, in the northern part of this province, I've documented heavily armed RCMP officers equipped with military-grade weapons

and accompanied by police dogs conducting violent raids against peaceful violent raids against peaceful land defenders. These weren't police operations. They were military-style invasions on unceded Indigenous territory. The pattern is always the same. Corporations obtain injunctions from colonial courts. RCMP establish exclusion zones to limit media access. Military-style raids are conducted against unarmed Indigenous people. Land defenders are criminalized and jailed. Of course, the media access is restricted to control the narrative.

I've seen matriarchs dragged from their traditional territories. I've witnessed hereditary chiefs harassed and intimidated on their own lands. And I've documented how police manipulate exclusion zones, specifically towards media on multiple occasions, and when they can't prevent us from being there, they lie about what we've seen with our own eyes. And the colonial courts provide a veneer of legitimacy to this violence.

Injunctions become weapons wielded by corporations and enforced by militarized police against Native peoples. Even here at Ferry Creek, not too far, I documented much of that crisis over a few years. It became the largest act of civil disobedience in Canadian history. Land defenders engaged in a crazy cat and mouse game with police in these remote forests,

trying to protect ancient trees that have stood for thousands of years. It's all native lands that these battlegrounds are playing out on. In Ferry Creek, I witnessed police violence again, deliberate manipulation of media access, the use of pain compliance techniques against peaceful protesters. And these tactical lies become a pattern. Police would deny events that I had captured on camera. They would claim things happened that I knew hadn't.

It wasn't miscommunication. It was deliberate deception. When I sit with residential school survivors as they share their stories, I hear echoes of my own family's pain and all of the people's stories that I've collected and gathered over the years. An elder in Saskatchewan, his hands trembling, as he showed me and pointed out the spot in a field where he, as a child, was forced to dig a grave for one of his classmates who didn't survive.

Another recent survivor that I met with out of Saddle Lake Cree Nation in Alberta, she recently described how they would secretly, and I've heard this story so many times, secretly teach each other their language in whispers and knowing that punishment would be severe if they were caught. And they were doing these things,

surviving all while being separated from their parents and family, being called incompetent, dirty Indians, and having their bodies exploited by the twisted lusts of the so-called men and women of God who taught them the ways of the white man. These aren't stories from dusty history books. They're living memories. They're carried in the hearts of the people still walking among us, who now have to watch

as their trauma is denied and dismissed. People whose stories that I've made it my life's mission to tell. I was always a writer, even while going through all of those struggles as a young woman. I began to see my story not just as a tale of victimhood, but a testament to survival and an opportunity to transform the narrative. These discoveries led me into journalism. I had my first job at a small community newspaper

in Manitoba when I was just 21 years old. I was a single mom, had two little kids on my hip. And I still remember the nerves that I felt walking into that newsroom for the first time, wondering if I belonged, didn't even know how to type on a computer. But each story that I wrote, each byline that I saw printed, gave me a really amazing sense of purpose.

I had to move back to Alberta for a few years, didn't work again as a storyteller for many years until I was 29. At that time I had hit a wall. A mental and emotional breakdown forced me into deep soul searching. And it was during this time that I began to understand how my personal story connected to our collective one. As I developed my career and found myself telling the stories, in every community that I reported from,

I saw reflections of my own journey, my family's journey, and our strength. But I seen then, and this is what drives me to do the work that I do, how our people were being represented in the media, the discrimination, the racism, and the violence that that perpetuated. But right now, 14 years into this career, I want to tell you what reconciliation looks like on the ground right now. My work has taken me across Canada, the United States, and around the world.

And I've been on front lines covering the continued consequences and fallout of colonialism. I think about the 12 year old girl I once was, and I see how little has changed. When we see Indigenous women are 12 times more likely to be murdered today, that's not a random statistic. That's an echo. An echo of where we're at. These are different decades. The 60s scoop. Residential school era. Different decades, different institution, same government, same story, still removing children from their families,

still destroying cultural connections, still causing trauma that will echo through generations. In January of 2024, I found myself on the other side of the story. While covering a police raid in an Indigenous homeless encampment in Edmonton, I was arrested and charged with obstruction. The irony wasn't lost on me, here I was, being arrested on my own ancestral lands for doing my job.

I remember the cold bite of the handcuffs and hearing the slamming of the cell door, the concrete floor, the open bathroom offering no privacy. As I sat there for hours, I thought about all of our people who had been in similar situations, their stories untold. It was heavy. Even though I knew it was possible to one day be arrested for doing this work? You're never prepared for it. The psychological, mental, emotional effects? It took a toll on me and I questioned everything. Literally, I'd lie in the fetal position in my bed afraid of what was coming. Uncertain as to what I was

doing. Was it worth it? I was looking at my not yet six-year-old beautiful daughter and thinking what had become of her mother. But that darkness lifted. The charges against me were eventually dropped, thanks in part to the outcry from fellow journalists and press freedom organizations. I remember that day and the

flood of relief that I felt when I got the text from my lawyer that it was over. I let out a sound that was piercing. I wailed and wailed. Whatever hold that that experience had had on me was released. I felt a renewed sense of determination. And it reminded me of the words of the late John Lewis, get in good trouble, necessary trouble. I want to use the word revolution deliberately tonight, because that's what we need.

Not gentle reform, not careful baby steps. We need a revolution of the Canadian spirit. I want to be crystal clear. You are either actively supporting reconciliation, or you are compliant in ongoing colonial violence. There is no neutral ground. There's no comfortable middle space. No I'm still learning zone.

There are literally people dying in this country in astronomical numbers due to this mess that we are in via suicide, poverty, inequity, addictions, police violence, and our beloved women and girls. The time for learning is over. The time for action is now. You're listening to Brandy Moran and her lecture, Indigenous Truth in the Face of Power, a Journalist's Call to Action, on ideas. Ideas can be heard on CBC Radio 1 in Canada, across North America, on SiriusXM, in Australia

on ABC Radio National, in France on World Radio Paris and around the world at cbc.ca. We're also a podcast. Subscribe and follow on Spotify, the CBC News app or wherever you get your podcasts. I'm Nala Ayaed. Hey there, I'm David Common. If you're like me, there are things you love about living in the GTA and things that drive you absolutely crazy. Every day on This Is Toronto, we connect you to what matters most about life in the GTA, the news you gotta know, and the conversations your friends will be talking about. Whether you listen on a run through your neighbourhood or while sitting in the parking lot that is

the 401, check out This Is Toronto, wherever you get your podcasts. Brandy Moran's lecture at Vancouver Island University in Nanaimo, British Columbia, is the 10th edition of the university's annual Indigenous Speaker Series. It was established in 2015 after the Truth and Reconciliation Commission called on educational institutions to lead the way on reconciliation. We now return to the lecture theater. I want to pause for a moment because I've been painting a stark picture of where we are, where reconciliation stands today.

But it would be dishonest not to acknowledge the progress that we have made. Ten years ago, most Canadians couldn't tell you what a residential school was. Today, that knowledge is growing. More Canadians than ever before are grappling with our true history. We are seeing that progress in concrete ways. Indigenous languages are starting to be revitalized in some communities

across this country. Some universities now require Indigenous studies courses. We have more native journalists in the newsrooms. Indigenous businesses are growing and thriving. Traditional ceremonies and cultural practices that were once outlawed are being restored, and Indigenous youth are reclaiming identities with pride. There are more allies that are standing

with Indigenous peoples, learning, listening, taking action. We are making progress, but progress isn't the same as success. It's not an excuse to slow down or pat ourselves on the back. If anything, these glimpses of what's possible should fuel us to push harder. Think of reconciliation like a patient in the hospital. Yes, they're getting some treatment. Yes, there are signs of life.

But they're still in critical condition. We can't just relax because their heart's still beating. We need to provide intensive care. And right now that care is being threatened. The same systems that removed our children are still separating families. The same colonial mindset that created residential schools is still alive in policies and practices across this country. This is why I say that reconciliation is on life support. We've made progress, but progress can be reversed. Progress can be undermined.

Progress without diligence and continued action can slip away. That's what I see happening right now. While some move forward, others are actively trying to drag us backward. While some institutions make meaningful changes, others perform empty gestures. And while some Canadians open their hearts to truth, others close their minds in denial. We can't be satisfied with incremental change. The progress we make shows us again what's possible. The resistance that we're facing shows us how far we still have to go.

I want to be clear about something else. Reconciliation isn't a favour that we're asking of Canada. It's not a charitable cause. It's not a charitable cause. It's not an Indigenous issue. It's literally about Canada's survival as a nation. Think about this very carefully. Canada's entire claim to legitimacy, its right to exist as a nation, rests on treaties with Indigenous peoples. How they've been broken?

What is Canada's claim to this land? What is its foundation? When you fight against reconciliation, you're fighting against Canada's economic future. Billions in development projects stalled due to unresolved land claims, infestment uncertainty when Indigenous rights are challenged or succeed in the courts. The cost of Indigenous poverty, healthcare gaps, and social services strain our economies. Legal battles over land and resources. The result is always the same. Growing social unrest, escalating conflicts.

Canada's treatment of Indigenous peoples is under global scrutiny, United Nations bodies regularly condemn Canada's failures, international investors watch Indigenous rights issues very closely, and Canada's moral authority on human rights is undermined. and Canada's moral authority on human rights is undermined. Without reconciliation, Canada loses ancient systems of wisdom and knowledge that are waiting to benefit everybody, cultural practices that could help address modern challenges. Perhaps the highest stake of all in this

is the soul of our nation. What kind of country do we want to live in? One built on denial and ongoing injustice? Or one that faces its truth and works to make things right? One that perpetuates harm against its first peoples or one that honors its promises and obligations. One trapped in colonial patterns or one that creates a new model for the world.

So this is why reconciliation isn't optional. The cost of failing at this isn't just born by Indigenous peoples, it's born by every Canadian, every institution, every aspect of society. This isn't about guilt, it's not about shame. It's about survival. Ours together. This is about the kind of country that we want to build

and about whether Canada will have a future at all. The time for debating whether to pursue reconciliation is over. It's on life support. It's either going to die or be revived. The only question now is if we'll do it and whether we'll do it in time. I stand before you not just as a survivor, but as a warrior. I'm a warrior that is not armed with weapons,

but with the prayers of my ancestors. Every story that I write, every report that I file, I uplift the voices of those crying out for justice for the living and the lost. I think about that little girl playing in the barn, unaware of the journey ahead of her. And I think about my own children and the world we're creating for them. There is an old Dakota proverb that I love, and I often quote, it's very applicable to what we're talking about.

When you see a new trail or a footprint, you do not know. that I love and I often quote, it's very applicable to what we're talking about. When you see a new trail or a footprint you do not know, follow it to the point of knowing. When you leave here today, what will you do? How will you be part of this revolution? The future is watching, and history will remember your choice. Hey, hey.

(*audience applauding*) Brandy Moran, delivering the 10th Annual Indigenous Speakers Series lecture at Vancouver Island University in Nanaimo, British Columbia. I caught up with Brandy two months after the lecture. She had just come back home after she spent the better part of a month in Ecuador, working on a story for the Canadian nonprofit media outlet Ricochet. I have been following you on Instagram and I just have the smallest idea of what kind of adventure you've been on and I know of course that you've been in Ecuador. Can you just talk about what the

focus of your work was there? Yeah, so I had the opportunity to spend over two weeks in Ecuador, in the Andes, in Amazon, and it was made possible by a grant. I got to go with Ricochet Media and Indigenews, and along with photographer Ian Wilms. It was about learning about the experiences of indigenous farming communities in these rural areas that are affected by Canadian-owned mining companies. So there are a lot of human rights and environmental violations that Canadian mining companies are responsible for. And so I went to these

two territories. I was totally transformed. It's, you know, I've reported on front lines here in Canada extensively, right, when it comes to Indigenous resistance and different extraction industries and opposition to that. But this was different. You are in a different country with different legalities, with a different culture. There was a lot of dangerous situations that we faced, but I mean, I had the opportunity to connect with the Shuar people in the Amazon,

in a remote Shuar village, right, that only got power, you know, less than a year ago to their community that is being invaded literally by the mining industry. Why was it important for you to track something like this where specifically Canadian companies are involved in the story where Indigenous rights are concerned? Because Canada is using the same playbook that it does here against our people when it comes to bypassing free prior and informed consent, you know,

conquer and divide tactics in communities. It's happening on a much worse level in these other countries and Canada's not being held to account for it. There has been movements and an ombudsman created, you know, in the past few years to try and address some of these human rights concerns, but it's been moving at a very slow pace. Meanwhile, people are putting their lives on their line. People have death threats against them and communities are really, really in turmoil. And because Canada has this reputation around the world as a human rights champion, and behind that facade, these wrongs, they have to be exposed.

What kind of actions are the Indigenous communities in Ecuador taking in this fight. You know, they have been trying different legal actions, but they are preparing to defend their territories on their own accord. One of the indigenous guards in the Shuar territory specifically said, you know, this will be like what happened in the Ukraine. This is an invasion and we are readying ourselves to fight. This one community plans at some point

to evacuate the women and the children and have the men there to fight to defend their home. And we have to understand this is ancestral territory where they have lived for millennia. They have nowhere else to go. And if they were displaced to an urban area or somewhere else, they would not be able to sustain themselves. This is their home. Everything that they do is connected to that. They grow everything that they eat. And so it's very dark. It's very

startling when I think that these are the actions that they're going to have to take. D.L. You describe this strip, Randi, as you reporting on Indigenous front lines. And often, actually, you invoke that kind of language that, you know, we often associate with foreign correspondents or with, and you even talk about yourself being like a war correspondent. Is that what it feels like to you sometimes that you are a war correspondent? Oh, absolutely. I've said that for years here in this country. You know, when I have

reported on different military and RCMP actions against Indigenous people and even my own experiences of being targeted by the police and being arrested. Even when I was in Ecuador, we went on an airplane ride and flying over the Amazon to try to take a look at one of the mines and to get some photographs. We barely had two minutes over the mine because we were threatened and we were at risk of being shot down. So if that's not a front line, then I really don't know what else is. What does the front line look like here in Canada for you when you were out there reporting?

Oh man. Oh it's just, it's two different worlds. It's a continuation of day one, you know, here in Canada when Europeans first arrived and started interacting with our people. It was, you know, it's the continuation of all of that discord and the promises broken and the violence that goes with it. I have been there when matrix have been, you know, torn off their territory or, you know, chiefs denied access to their lands in favor of these big corporate projects backed by governments. And it's stunning that this happens in a country like Canada. But if people aren't there, and if they don't know, you know what I mean? It's hard for people to

really understand that this is still happening and that we're in a mess as a country when it comes to our relationships with the First Peoples. I wondered whether you think the average non-Indigenous person in this country would actually understand this illusion to being a war correspondent in this country? I don't know. I mean, unless they specifically follow this beat, unless they specifically follow my work or others that are out there doing this work, I really don't think that they would understand, you know, when you're there and there's, you know, police, military trucks lining up down the road, readying to come and raid these sovereign territories, because there's just so, so much misunderstanding in regards to the rights of our people and the sovereignty of our people.

You spoke in your lecture about you being arrested in one of these confrontations. You were working at an Indigenous homeless camp in Edmonton in January 2024, and you described it as the beginning of a dark chapter in your life. How do you feel about that chapter now, one year later? It was very dark. I did slide into a depression. For those couple of months, there was a lot of heaviness and a lot of uncertainty, but thank God the charges were lifted, and I was free once again to be able to do this work. But looking back, I'm glad that I did not back down in that moment when

the officer rushed towards me and demanded that I leave. As they were moving forward to make those arrests, I'm so glad that I stood my ground. Because in the months that followed, there was a wave of police violence that broke out across this country against our people. There was, I think, nearly a dozen Indigenous people that died at the hands of police from August to October.

One of them was a 15-year-old named Hoss Lightning from Muscogee, Alberta. And if I wasn't there as a witness in that time, anything could happen in these situations. And it's my job because of this totally broken relationship between the different systems and our people, including the police, we need to be there. We need to be the eyes and the ears of the situation. Because oftentimes, when these situations break out, when people are injured, the police are not held to account. How would you describe your resolve now as a journalist, having witnessed what you've seen over the past year? Yeah. Wow.

You know, there are times when I very much struggle emotionally and spiritually with the things that I see and with, you know, carrying these stories and these people with me. But I mean, it just really helps to drive my resolve to keep doing this work. And there are times that I get discouraged. Like, is this work making a difference?

Are things going to shift and change, right? You know, it may not be today, but maybe down the road, maybe when my daughter's grown up, my six-year-old, maybe things will have started to shift. And so I focus on that and I'm ready for whatever comes. And now that I have started reporting outside of Canada and other Indigenous territories,

and I feel like I've been prepped for that with all the different work that I have been doing over these past years, I feel like I've been prepped for that with all the different work that I have been doing over these past years. I feel like I've been prepped because like I said, it's high stakes. I'm prepared and I'm willing and I'm ready to go out there and to bring these stories to the world. In your presentation, you challenge Canadians and you say that they should, quote, move beyond superficial gestures of reconciliation and confront the ongoing impacts of colonialism. Can you talk about what you mean by superficial

gestures of reconciliation? We have these rituals that have become normal in this country after the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, you know, and the missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls, final report was released. We have land acknowledgements and we have celebrations and gatherings. But we are falling short. There is still so much that needs to be repaired on both sides. It was kind of just like, you know,

when we began this journey as a country, it was like all of this turmoil was revealed and exposed and it's festering. And we're at that boiling point where we need to address it. We need to dig deep and work genuinely towards the goal of what reconciliation is. So what are some examples of more meaningful reconciliation in your mind? It is about not only acknowledging,

but giving Indigenous peoples the same platforms, the same recognition of rights and sovereignty in this country, just like when this country was established and the various agreements and treaties, the covenants that were signed to bring this country into being, to work hand in hand, to create something great together, to share the resources, to share the wealth, and to walk side by side, that has never been realized. And I think that that is key to moving forward, giving Indigenous people that control, that respect, to be able to self-determine our lives.

I know you're not a policymaker, but when you imagine that sort of seeding of control and walking side by side, what do you imagine as a first step, a first step from this point, let's say by the federal government, how could they do a better job of expediting the kind of world that you're describing? What's one thing? I think that there could be more or complete decision-making power given from the federal government to Indigenous communities and organizations. It's still a very paternalistic relationship. The government determines how much each community is going to receive. Again, I'm going to always go back to the treaties to ensure that these treaties signed between

Indigenous people in Canada are respected. You know, there's so many different areas, right? We could delve into the justice system that is completely in chaos, right? Where the majority of the people imprisoned in this country are Indigenous and it's talking about completely overhauling a lot of these systems because they are systemically geared towards favouring non-Indigenous society.

We've spoken about what the government can do. What about ordinary Canadians in terms of reconciliation? What's missing? You know, it comes in waves, you know, it comes like on specific days of awareness, like Indigenous People's Day or the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, affiliation and people are engaged and they are inspired. But I think that that enthusiasm kind of fades away in between and I think people need to genuinely be interested and do the work that it takes to get to know each other, to get to know your neighbors, to get to know

the truth of everything that has ever happened on the lands that you call home. I really think individually it comes down to relationships with each other and genuine relationships. And, you know, elders have told me and even one of the commissioners of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Willie Littlechild, he always said, you know, just pick one or two of the calls to action from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

Pick one or two of those that speak to you and start there, little by little. You know, these are things, but they have to be taken seriously and genuinely. This is not just a fad. This is where we live. This is about creating a Canada that is better for all and can change the outcomes of future generations on both sides. The political climate in the United States has cast a shadow, you know, both economic and political uncertainty over Canada. I guess the bottom line is, do you worry that First Nations communities might get lost in

this conversation? No. Because I know that our people, they stand up in these situations and they mobilize and they are, well, unfortunately, really good at protesting. They are really good at defending their territories and standing up for their rights. So I think that if a situation like that played out, that there would be calls to action across this country and we would see a wave of support, not only just from Indigenous peoples, but from a lot of the allies that our people have, you know, connected with over these recent years. Back to the work that you do, you have an incredible body of work, you know, long-form pieces in international sites and awards to support your reputation. But even so, as you say, some of your reporting is called into question.

The reality of what you've seen with your own eyes on the ground is denied, even by figures of authority. What impact do you think that kind of treatment of your work has on your journalism? I encounter this all the time. I mean, even recently on these stories that I've been working on out of Ecuador, I mean, the Canadian ambassador to Ecuador refused to speak with me on the record.

And when I don't need to speak off the record, the minister for international trade here agreed to an interview and then pulled back days later. I have to put these disclaimers in this work and say, I worked to tell this story and it is balanced away as possible, but I can't control who is refusing to participate. I think about it as for so long, the stories of our people have been one-sided. They have been told from the perspective of colonial society. And I am there to tell these stories and to do this work with a Native voice, with a Native perspective while including the facts and while giving opportunity for fair coverage. And so I really have to stay grounded in that.

So that helps inform all Canadians about what is going on, as you say, on the Indigenous front lines. What do you think it does for the project of reconciliation ultimately? I mean, I hope that it serves as a living document of this history that we are going through. I hope that it would make a difference in individual lives, maybe in the different policy level environments. I just want the stories to speak for themselves

and get to the truth and get to the heart. Thank you very much for your time. Hi, hi, Thank you, Nala. Brandy Morin is a Cree-Iracois French journalist based in Edmonton. She delivered the 10th Annual Indigenous Speakers Series Lecture at Vancouver Island University in Nanaimo, British Columbia. Her lecture was entitled, Indigenous Truth in the Face of Power, a Journalist's Call to Action. This program was produced by Anne Penman. If you'd like to comment on anything you heard in this episode or on any other,

just go to our website cbc.ca. ideas. For more, scroll through our podcast feed, which includes several other programs on Indigenous issues like the recent talk I had with journalist and podcaster Connie Walker. And while you're in your podcast feed, feel free to rate us and share with your friends. Our technical producer is Danielle Duval. Lisa Ayuso is the web producer for Ideas. Nikola Lukcic is the senior producer. The executive producer of Ideas is Greg Kelly.

And I'm Nala Ayed.