Nuanced. - 204. The Unmarked Graves Story & Denialism Explained

Episode Date: August 25, 2025

Chief Aaron Pete breaks down the Kamloops unmarked graves discovery, the book Grave Error, and the growing debate over so-called “Indian Residential School Deniers".Send us a textFit, Healthy & Happy Podcast Welcome to the Fit, Healthy and Happy Podcast hosted by Josh and Kyle from Colossus...Listen on: Apple Podcasts   SpotifySupport the shownuancedmedia.ca

You know, Right now, Canada is caught in a growing emotional debate, a debate over so-called Indian residential school denialism, and the unmarked graves believed to exist at former Indian residential school sites. On May 29, 2021, a headline from CBC stopped the country in its tracks. Remains of 215 children found buried at former BC residential school, First Nations say. The story went global.

It sparked vigils, church arsons, parliamentary motions, and more than 246 million in survivor-focused funding. It led to the creation of a national holiday, the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. And eventually, it brought an unprecedented apology from Pope Francis to indigenous peoples in Canada. For many, that headline was a moment of national reckoning, a public confirmation of what residential school survivors had been saying for decades,

that children went to these institutions and never came home. But then came the correction, or what some called a quiet clarification. These weren't confirmed remains. They were possible burial sites identified using ground penetrating radar. Researchers made it clear. Anomalies had been found, but excavations and forensic analysis would be required to confirm what they were. From that moment, the narrative split. On one side, conservative commentators like Jonathan K., Candice Malcolm, Francis Widowson, and Nigel Begar argued that radar doesn't detect bones.

It detects disturbances. And to date, no remains have been exhumed or publicly verified in Cameloupes. On the other side, indigenous leaders and survivors insist, we already know children died in these schools, often buried in unmarked graves on site. Ground penetrating radar, they argue, simply point to what oral histories and survivor testimony have long told us. And whether or not to excavate is a decision that belongs to the nation, not to the media. These two camps are miles apart. But here's the truth.

You cannot understand the 2021 Camloop story without understanding the history that came before it. So today, we're going to walk that road. We'll examine the federal policies that created residential schools and how they were entangled with the Indian Act, assimilation efforts, and a deeply colonial mindset. We'll draw from primary sources like the 1967 survey of contemporary Indians of Canada. The 1972 Indian control of Indian education policy by the National Indian Brotherhood, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, and Volume 4 of the National Truth and Reconciliation Commission, the one titled Missing Children and Unmarked Burials. That TRC volume confirmed at least 3,200 child deaths and warned the real number may be far higher.

We'll also cover the wave of lawsuits in the 1980s and 90s, the 2006 Indian residential school settlement agreement, and the public testimonies that began reshaping Canada's collective consciousness long before Camloops made headlines. Then we'll dive into the heart of the Camloop story. What has been proven? What remains uncertain? And why did one media headline spark a global movement, despite no body's being. being unearthed. We'll also examine the critiques, the concerns raised in grave error, the difference between evidence and extrapolation, and the risks of drawing sweeping conclusions without public forensic confirmation. But this conversation isn't just about history. It's about

the future and what this controversy could mean for First Nations government relations going forward, because here's the real danger. If unresolved doubt festeres, if hard questions aren't answered and treated as heresy, if debate itself becomes taboo, then reconciliation becomes performative. It becomes a slogan instead of a solution. And as a First Nations chief, I say this not to diminish the trauma of survivors. I've seen it in my own family. I carry that truth with me. But I also believe that if this story about our people is inaccurate or exaggerated, it will hurt us in the long run. Not because it makes us look bad, but because it hands ammunition to those who want to deny the real harms that did happen. Most Canadians already recognize

the injustices of the past. The empathy is real and it's earned. But we risk eroding that goodwill if we're seen to be building public policy on shaky ground. And if we alienate everyday Canadians with moral absolutism or information gaps, we push reconciliation further out of reach. My goal here is simple, to pursue a nuanced truth one that honors survivors, respects the facts, and builds a future rooted in both honesty and healing. The history of First Nations in Canada,

Canada. To understand the divide we're facing now, you have to go back to the beginning. When the French first arrived in the early 1500s, they didn't have the numbers or power to dominate this land outright. They came here to trade. The fur trade became the backbone of early relationships with nations like the Micmac, the Algonquin, and the Huron Wendat, and the Innu. This wasn't just passing contact. The French depended on indigenous knowledge, to survive harsh winters, navigate unfamiliar rivers, and defend against the enemies. They formed military alliances, shared ceremonies, and often intermarried, creating kinship networks that, over time, gave rise to the Métis people.

It was still colonialism, still grounded in the belief that Europe's ways were superior, but at this stage it was rooted in mutual dependence, rather than outright domination. The British came later, and their approach was different. The Hudson's Bay Company, chartered in 1670, made trade more transactional. Furs over family tries. They formed political alliances like the Covenant Chain, with the Haudi No Schoen, Confederacy. But these were born out of military necessity, not cultural blending. When Britain defeated France in 1763,

They inherited France's colonial claims, and to keep the peace, King George III issued the royal proclamation of 1763. On paper, it recognized that indigenous nations held title to their lands and could only sell to the crown, a principle still referenced by First Nations today. But paper promises mean little without the will to honor them. Over the next century, Britain's view of indigenous people shifted from partners to problems. The war of 1812 was the last time the crown truly relied on indigenous nations as allies. Leaders like Ticumsey fought alongside the British, trusting promises that their lands and nations would be protected. When the war ended, those promises evaporated. The Treaty of Ghent didn't even mention indigenous rights. By the mid-1800s,

the push to civilize was in full swing. Settlers moved west, and the Bagot Commission of 1842 to 44 recommended educating indigenous children in industrial boarding schools, away from the influence of their families and communities. This was decades before residential schools became official policy, but it laid the groundwork and the blueprint. In 1857, the Gradual Civilization Act offered

citizenship and a small parcel of land to indigenous men who gave up their Indian status and treaty rights. Out of thousands, only one man agreed. When Confederation came in 1867, Canada inherited authority over Indians and lands reserved for Indians. By 1876, the Indian Act codified that control, defining who is legally an Indian, imposing reserves, and regulating governance, movement, and culture. From there, the residential school system took shape. In 1879, Prime Minister John A. MacDonald backed Nicholas Flood Davin's recommendation. After studying U.S. industrial schools, the indigenous children should be removed from their

parents for most of the year to be assimilated. MacDonald put it bluntly. When the school is on the reserve, the child lives with its parents, who are savages. He is simply a savage who can read and write. Indian children should be withdrawn as much as possible from their parental influence. By 1894, amendments to the Indian Act made attendance at these schools compulsory for indigenous children from age 7 to 16, with only limited exemptions. In 1920, the law went even further, making it illegal for status indigenous children to attend any school other than a government or church-run residential institution.

Parents who resisted risked having their children taken by Indian agents or police. From the 1800s, until the last school closed in 1996, more than 150,000 indigenous children went through this system. They were stripped of their names, punished for speaking their languages, and forbidden from practicing their own culture. In my territory, Stolo Elder Siamia Tiliot remembers sneaking to the far side of the playground to quietly speak her language. She is now the last fluent Halklamalem speaker. Official records confirmed that at least 3,200 children died in these schools, mostly from the disease, malnutrition, and neglect. But the Truth and Reconciliation Commission believes the real number is far higher,

with death rates in some schools exceeding those of Canadian soldiers in wartime. Warnings about these conditions go back generations. In 1914, Duncan Campbell Scott, the Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs, admitted that 50% of the children, children who passed through these schools did not live to benefit from the education which they had received therein. He wasn't condemning the system. He was running it and remaining committed to the goal of erasing indigenous identity from Canada's

future. What began as fragile trade alliances in the 1500s had, by the late 19th century and early 20th century, hardened into a system designed to reshape indigenous peoples into a European mold, eroding languages, breaking cultural continuity, and severing children from their families and communities. It didn't happen overnight. It was built law by law, policy by policy, over the course of three centuries. And to move forward, we need a nuanced understanding of how we got here. Indian residential school track record throughout history. We'll be back after a quick break.

Hey, quick question for you. Are you someone who wants to be fit, healthy, and happy? And what if I told you you could get your dream body by simply just listening to a podcast? I'm Josh. And I'm KG, and we're the host of the fit, healthy, and happy podcast. Listen, we get it. Fitness isn't easy, carbs, no carbs. Just stop, okay?

It doesn't have to be that complicated. And that's why we made this podcast. We get straight to the facts so you can become your best you. So the way to check us out is click the link in the show notes or go search fit healthy and happy podcasts on any of the major podcast platforms. We'll see you soon. We know Indian residential schools in Canada lasted for nearly a century. And across that time, report after report, told the government exactly what was wrong.

And every time, they nodded and carried on. One of the first alarms came in 1907, when Dr. Peter Bryce's Canada's chief medical officer reported staggering mortality rates, 15 to 24% of children dying in the schools, climbing to over 40% in some communities. The causes were no mystery, tuberculosis, overcrowding, and appalling sanitation. Ottawa buried that report. By 1922, Bryce had enough.

He published the story of a national crime, openly accusing the Department of Indian Affairs of criminal negligence for allowing conditions he called nothing short of manslaughter. His evidence was clear, his words impossible to misinterpret, and still nothing changed. Even the churches knew. In 1935, the United Church of Canada ran its own commission on Indian education. It found widespread deficiencies, poor educational outcomes, and systemic neglect of the children in its care. And yet, like Bryce's report, the findings never sparked reform. They stayed in the archives, gathering dust. Almost three decades later, in 1967, the federal government commissioned anthropologist Harry Hawthorne to produce a survey of the contemporary Indians of Canada. In it, indigenous peoples were described.

as Citizens Plus, entitled not only to the same rights as other Canadians, but also to their treaty rights. Hawthorne flat out criticized residential schools for poor results and recommended local control and a shift to day schools. It didn't shut the system down, but it began nudging Ottawa towards integrating indigenous students into provincial schools. By the late 1960s, and as federal archives confirmed, most churches wanted out, running these schools was costly, controversial, and increasingly indefensible. In 1969, the federal government took over from the churches.

Then, in 1972, the National Indian Brotherhood released Indian Control of Indian Education. The title said it all, and Ottawa agreed in 1973. New enrollments in residential schools began to drop sharply. But change wasn't coming fast enough for survivors, still in the system. By the mid-1980s and into the early 1990s, survivors were organizing, supporting one another. And as court records showed, launching class action lawsuits. In October 1990, Phil Fontaine, Grand Chief of the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs, publicly described the abuse he had endured.

That speech was a turning point. The moment the silence started to break. And the 1990s proved the abuse wasn't just history. In Kamloops, an employee of the Kamloops Indian Residential School was charged with several dozen sex crimes committed on site. He pled guilty and served about three years in prison. As later described in TRC testimony, Survivors recalled nighttime assaults. The abuse are moving through dorms with a flashlight.

In Saskatchewan, William Starr, administrator of the Gordon Indian Residential School from 1968 to 1984, admitted to sexually abusing potentially hundreds of boys. In 1993, he was sentenced to 4.5 years for sexually assaulting 10 of them. That same period saw hundreds of lawsuits filed and over 200 complaints settled by Ottawa. Then came 1996, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. A massive, multi-volume report concluded that residential schools were a central element in the cultural genocide of Aboriginal peoples. It called for healing initiatives, community-controlled education, and public acknowledgement of the harm. That same year, the last federally run school, Gordon Indian Residential School,

closed. And no, there was no sweeping government apology. By 2001, the Office of Indian Residential Schools Resolution Canada was created to handle the flood of abuse claims. That led to the 2006 Indian Residential School's settlement agreement, the largest class action settlement in Canadian in history. And crucially, the creation of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The TRC began work in 2008, and from 2009 to 2015, it traveled to every province and territory, hosted public and private hearings, gathered over 6,000 survivors' statements, and collected mountains of archival evidence. In 2015, it released multiple volumes and not. 94 calls to action.

The findings were unflinching. The TRC concluded the system was a cultural genocide, a deliberate policy to erase indigenous languages, spirituality, and ways of life, forcing assimilation into Euro-Canadian society. Over 150,000 First Nations, Inuit, and Métis children attended these schools between the 1800s and 1996.

Survivors described widespread physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, harsh discipline, poor sanitation, malnutrition, and unsafe living conditions. Beatings for speaking one's language. This is a quote. If we were caught speaking our language, they would make us kneel on the floor for hours. Sometimes with a pencil under our knees. The pain was unbearable. They wanted to make sure we forgot who we were. Survivor Testimony, TRC Volume, Final Report, Volume 5.

Sexual abuse by staff was reported, here's a quote. I was eight when the priest started coming into my bed at night. I didn't understand what was happening. If I cried, he would tell me I was going to hell and no one would believe me. I never told my parents until I was in my 50s. That survivor testimony in the final report. Malnutrition Experiments. Here's a quote from this.

We were always hungry. They told us we were part of an experiment. We didn't know what that meant. Just that food was bad and there wasn't enough. My teeth bled for years. Testimony from former Albany Indian residential school student documented in Ian Mosby's research. Classmates disappearing. Here's a quote.

One morning, the little boy who slept in the bed next to mine was gone. They told us he had was sent home, but his parents never saw him again. I found out many years later he had died and was buried behind the school. Survivor testimony from the TRC, missing children, and unmarked burials, volume. Cultural eraser They cut my hair the day I arrived. They told me my name was no good and gave me a number. I wasn't allowed to see my brother, even though he was in the same building.

We stopped being family the moment we got there. That's survivor testimony from the TRC final report. At least 3,200 children are known to have died. But as the TRC's missing children and unmarked burials volume makes clear, there was no organized effort to record deaths across the system. The National Student Death Register is far from complete. Many documents remain unreviewed. others were inconsistently reported and some were destroyed entirely other estimates place the real number between 4,100 and 6500 the TRC also documented the suppression of languages the dismantling of cultural transmission and the intergenerational trauma that followed cycles of mental health struggles substance use and family breakdown and those 94 calls to action they range from

child welfare to education, language revitalization, justice reform, and commemoration. The point and the TRC itself stressed this is that this wasn't the work of a few bad apples. It was a planned government policy carried out in partnership with churches for more than a century. The last school closed less than 30 years ago. Survivor testimony was central to the TRC's work and their voices. are now part of Canada's historical record. But even the commission warned, when testimony is prioritized over documentary records,

the truth becomes vulnerable to denial. That's why both matter. The stories and the hard evidence. Because without both, the truth can be picked apart. In December 2015, the TRC completed its work and released its final report, concluding that the residential school system amounted to a cultural genocide. Just two months earlier, Justin Trudeau had been elected prime minister,

sworn in on November 4th. Still in his political honeymoon, he walked into the TRC's final report release on December 15th. In his speech that day, Trudeau acknowledged the gravity of the TRC's conclusions that what had been done to indigenous children and communities was not just wrong, but part of a deliberate policy to erase languages, cultures, and identities. And he didn't just offer symbolic gestures. He committed to fully implementing all 94 calls to action directed at the federal government, promising to do it in partnership with indigenous communities. He pledged a national inquiry into missing and murdered indigenous women's and girls,

one of the calls to action, and elevated reconciliation to what he called a sacred obligation for his government. In the years that followed, his government took some steps. formerly adopting the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples into law, creating the National Council for Reconciliation, and passing legislation to protect indigenous languages. But progress was uneven. Many calls to action remain unfinished. Even among allies, praise was cautious.

Former TRC Chair Murray Sinclair welcomed the commitments, but pressed for faster, tangible results. Still, in those early days, the momentum. them felt real. Reports showed real opportunities to improve living conditions for First Nations, and Trudeau seemed eager, even determined to be the one to lead the change. The Mass Graves Story With all of that history, now let's get to the Mass Grave story and the rise in so-called Indian residential school denialism. In May 2021, to Kumloops to Sequepmek, First Nation,

made an announcement that would ignite national and international attention. They revealed the results of a ground-penetrating radar survey at the site of the former Kamloops Indian residential school in British Columbia. The work was led by anthropologist and GPR specialist, Sarah Boulog, from the University of the Fraser Valley. Camloops was not a small institution. It was one of the largest residential schools in Canada, operated by the Catholic Church from 1890 until 1978.

Preliminary ground-penetrating radar scans identified what were interpreted as the remains of an estimated 215 children in unmarked graves. Many of these children were believed to be very young, with some claiming that they would be around the age of three at the time of death. The locations aligned with survivor testimony,

stories told for decades about children who had died at the school and were buried without markers, without records, and without families being told. As Sarah Boulog explained in her July 2021 public statement, these were not mass graves in the sense of a single large pit, but rather individual or small group burial sites in an orchard area used by the school. And she stressed that the results were preliminary. Ground penetrating radar does not produce an image. of bones or bodies, it detects soil disturbances, anomalies consistent with grave shafts.

But confirmation would require excavation, which had not been done. This announcement was significant. It became the first major ground penetrating radar finding, publicized as part of a growing national effort to locate missing children from residential schools following the National Truth and Reconciliation Commission's 2015 report. The news prompted calls for accountability, federal funding for more searches, and further investigations across Canada. Survivors said the results confirmed what they had been telling governments and churches for generations. The children had died and their deaths were hidden.

It's important to note that ground penetrating radar is not experimental guesswork. It's a well-established archaeological tool used global. to locate unmarked graves. It's been applied in battlefield archaeology, Holocaust research at sites like Treblinka, and an indigenous grave repatriation projects in Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. In Canada, ground penetrating radar

had already been used in RC&P cold cases and historic cemetery research before Kamloops. What made the Kamloops findings compelling to experts was the pattern. As Boulot explained, the anomalies had a consistent size and shape, small grave shafts matching the dimension of children's burials. They showed regular spacing, depth consistent with the historical burial period, and they were in the precise orchard location survivors had identified decades earlier as the burial site. The way that they are shaped, the way that they are positioned, their size and their depth is consistent.

consistent with burials, she said, as reported by the CBC News. Still, limitations remain. No excavation has been carried out, partly due to cultural protocols, legal considerations, and community decision-making. Some argue that without physical remains, the findings are unproven. But the Tecumloops Tseqq and many archaeologists counter that indigenous-led research, oral history, and non-invasive technology are valid evidence, especially when government and church records are incomplete or have been destroyed. After Kamloops, the federal government pledged funding for similar searches at other former

residential school sites. Dozens of communities have since undertaking ground-penetrating radar surveys. Many reporting additional anomalies consistent with hundreds more potential unmarked graves. The Catholic Church, which operated Kamloops, faced renewed calls for a formal apology and full access to records. The announcement also accelerated national conversations from lowering flags on federal buildings to establishing the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation.

But the story also drew critics, several of whom I've interviewed on this show, journalist Jonathan Kaye, writing in Colette in 2022, argued that the media's framing using phrases like, like discovery of human remains and mass graves overstated the facts. Kay noted that ground penetrating radar detects ground disturbances, not bodies, and that no remains had been exhumed. In his view, the coverage became a national social panic,

where reporters repeated one another's framing without caution or correction. He's called for careful verification before making definitive claims stressing that tragedies in residential school history are real, but premature conclusions undermine trust. Nigel Beghar, another past guest, argued in a December 2024 essay titled Grievances, Politics, Fuels, New Era of Fake History, that the Camloop story fit into a broader Western pattern of media-driven moral panic and retrospective colonial guilt.

Candice Malcolm, also a former guest, was among the earliest and loudest voices questioning the Camloops narrative. She's described the coverage as one of the most destructive fake news narratives in Canadian history. Malcolm points to the absence of exhumed remains, the speculative nature of the reports, and cases where anomalies were later found to be in established cemeteries. She often cites later excavations at Pine Creek and Camzel Hospital where no human remains were found as vindication for her skepticism. In her view, the moral and political fallout from the initial reporting, including vandalism at churches, the cancellation of Canada Day events, and the creation of a national holiday were disproportionate to the unconfirmed evidence. Malcolm also contributed to and promoted grave error how the media misled us and the truth about residential schools. A 2023 anthology edited by CP Champion and Tom Flanagan.

The book compiles essays from journalists, academics, and commentators who argue that Canadian media and political leaders overstated aspects of the Unmarked Graves narrative. The contributors question the interpretation of ground-penetrating radar results, criticize what they see as political exploitation of the story, and challenge elements of residential school history as framed by the National Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Supporters say it's a necessary corrective. Critics say it's downplaying, survivor experiences, and undermining reconciliation. So the Kamloop's story sits at the intersection of history. technology, survivor testimony, and public trust.

For many indigenous communities, it was a validation of long ignored truths. For others, it was a case study in the dangers of media amplification without physical verification. And for the country, it became one of the most consequential and contested moments in the ongoing conversation about Canada's residential school legacy. The Fallout Here's the difference. divide as I understand it. If you're left leaning, you tend to trust to the CBC.

You trust the National Truth and Reconciliation Commission. You trust and know that Stephen Harper and the Pope apologized, and you trust the archaeologists, which leads you to believe the claim is true. And as mentioned earlier, per the National Truth and Reconciliation Commission's final report, at least 3,200 children are known to have died in residential schools. But here's the thing, as found in the TRC's missing children and unmarked burials volume, there was no organized effort to record deaths across the entire system. The National Student Death Register is far from complete, with many documents still unreviewed.

Death counts remain unknown because of incomplete records, inconsistent reporting, and in some cases outright destruction of files. Other estimates placed a real number between 4,100 and 6,500. So, when the 215 anomalies in Kamloops were reported in 2021, for many, that was seen as evidence confirming what the TRC already said, that records were incomplete and that the actual number could be much higher. If you're right-leaning, you see it differently. You question why the CBC, New York Times, and Washington Post made such a bold claim without definitive proof. Then, why they quietly changed or updated their wording. You know that the archaeologists are pointing to ground-penetrating radar readings, not to confirmed remains of children.

You ask why culture and emotions seem to outweigh hard evidence, especially when this is an extraordinary claim that, in your view, requires extraordinary proof. You question the dramatic, political, and financial response, including a 246 million community fund. You point out that the TRC relies heavily on survivor testimony rather than only cold statistical data. And you ask why. Four years later, there have been no excavations. If you're right-leaning, you're also likely conservative. And what does it mean to be a conservative? At its core, it means you want to conserve.

to preserve history, culture, and the stories we tell ourselves. So when the CBC broke the 215 unmarked grave story and churches were burned or vandalized in the aftermath, the conservative reaction was predictable through that lens. That's why it's important to be aware of the instinct towards conservation when reviewing complex important topics because it shapes how you interpret the facts. The reality is, ground surveys have revealed numerous potential burial sites, but human remains have only been confirmed in a very few cases, and often not through targeted excavations.

Now, here's where the conversation gets heated. People who question the 2021 story are often accused of being Indian residential school deniers. There are two problems with that to start with. First, it's inaccurate. These people aren't denying that residential schools existed or that they caused harm. They're questioning a specific claim. Second, the term is politically loaded, deliberately echoing Holocaust denier. And here's the strange part.

Even the CBC admits the definition doesn't actually mean someone denies the existence of the school system. In a March 17th 2025 article, CBC journalist Samantha Schweintech wrote, residential school denialism does not deny the existence of the school system, but rather downplays, excuses, or misinterprets facts about the harms caused by it. Experts, she cites, are Dr. Daniel Heath Justice and Dr. Sean Carlton, professors and co-authors of Truth Before Reconciliation, eight ways to identify and confront residential school denialism. And they use the same definition.

Here's the problem. When you redefine a loaded term, so it no longer matches its plain meaning, you turn the debate into a political weapon. It's like calling someone a murderer than saying, well, I define murderer as anyone who's ever killed a bug. You'd be right to see that as bad faith and manipulative. Calling someone a denier, then admitting they're not actually denying the thing in question, does exactly that. That it frustrates, it confuses, and it poisons the conversation. That framing is part of why this has gotten so political. You have people like former Crown Indigenous Relations Minister, Gary Anan Sangare, NDP, MP, Leah Gazan,

and some survivor groups advocating for a law to make denialism a criminal offense. Under their proposed bill, anyone other than in private, who condones, denies, or downplays, or justifies the Indian residential school system or misrepresents facts related to it could face up to two years in prison. And the denier label has been used in real-world ways, the damage reputations. In Quinnell, for example, the mayor's wife was accused of distributing a book promoting residential school denialism, the same grave error book we've discussed before. And the mayor was condemned by his own counsel and the union of BC Indian

chiefs. The reality is this story is complicated. The nations themselves are often choosing not to release certain evidence and that is absolutely their right. But if that's the case, then it's not unreasonable for people to remain skeptical. Respecting a nation's right to privacy comes with the caveat the conclusions will draw that people will choose their own conclusions. When Minister Gary Anansangray came on my show, as well as past guests like Candace Malcolm and former Indigenous Services Canada Minister Patty Heidu. I told them that criminalizing denialism is a very bad idea. First, because people have a right to freedom of expression. Second, because doing so will only deepen the divide between First Nations and the rest of Canada. Third, that the term

denier doesn't reflect its plain meaning. And lastly, because we don't have all the evidence needed to justify such a law. Here's my clip with Minister Gary Anansangaray and Patty Heidu on criminalizing denialism. The other conversation is around the caps on Indian residential school searches and the funding for that. Now, I just want to be transparent. I've had multiple conversations with people various on the political spectrum. I've spoken to Chief Willie Sellers from Williams Lake First Nation. We talked about his community and the actual searches that may go on in his community.

Michael Moses, who's running for the BCNDP. But I've also spoken to individuals like Candace Malcolm from True North Media about her perspective and the book that her organization True North released saying that perhaps there aren't these unmarked graves, that the CBC story that was initially reported has some problems with it, one of which is they find abnormalities. There's not bones that have been discovered. There's these abnormalities that may be bodies. And I'm wondering how you process this story and then how do you decide you've removed the caps on that search.

How did you come to that decision? You know, I was at Williams Lake. I was at, you know, we did a, I was at Williams Lake last year around this time. I met with Charlene Bellew who is very involved. with the work of St. Joseph's former St. Joseph's residential schools. I walked the ground. And, you know, this was about three, four in the afternoon.

By the time I finished and I had so many other things to do that day, I just went to the hotel and I had to shut down. And I have not felt like that in any other day in this role. And I had to shut down because the emotion was so, overwhelming and the impact that just even walking and understanding and understanding the stories just crushed me, right? And for anyone to suggest that, you know, we can't accept residential school, that that's took place, that young people didn't go home, families didn't have their kids back. I think it's absolute nonsense. And it is the type of,

hatred, in my opinion, that warrants criminal review and almost, you know, when we talk about Holocaust denial or denialism of any major event, I think genocide, I think this is at that point where it should be part of community and criminal law to be able to talk about those who deny that this happened. The work, I think, that's been undertaken, the community is it's a verification process to see, you know, if there are bodies that can be found or that can be exhumed and it can be, you know, tested. And every single one of those steps takes, buying from the community, it takes commitment. It takes, frankly, the understanding of, you know, what they're going to be able to live with when they do that search.

And everyone will have different decision points and everyone will not have the same outcome. But ultimately, everyone deserves to undertake this process if and when they're ready. Well, I can see the foundation of why that bill has been proposed. I mean, ultimately, at the end of the day, it's extremely hurtful to individuals, especially individuals with an experience in residential school, which is many, if not most, individuals in this country. indigenous, sorry, First Nations, indigenous people in this country. And so I understand the motive behind it.

The government's still studying that bill to see whether or not, and of course it's not even in debate yet, but eventually the government will decide about whether it supports the bill or not, and whether or not there's other legislation that, you know, is duplicative. For example, we do have hate speech laws in this country. Are they enough? So, you know, ultimately at the end of the day, I would say stay tuned for a decision from the government.

But what I would say that the government agrees with is that the experience of denialism is very painful for people that are, you know, mourning the loss of their family, mourning the impact of their parents and the experience of their parents on their own lives. There's just so much loss and grief in this space that, you know, what I hope is that Canadians increasingly want to understand. and be compassionate to the healing journey that First Nations people are on. And I'm consistent about this. When a Vancouver theology school tried to cancel a lecture by Nigel Beghar, a past guest, because he was labeled a denier, I reached out to the organizers. I told them I'd be happy to attend to question Beghar directly.

And that while I disagree with some of his views, I believe he has the right to speak and that his views have a right to be challenged. because I'm about as close to a free speech absolutist as you can get. I did attend that event. I engaged with him respectfully, and despite where we disagree, I still respect him as a thinker who's willing to show up and defend his position in an open conversation. That said, I also see the other side. Some people do try and downplay the harm of residential schools unnecessarily.

When I spoke with Candace Malcolm, for example, she acknowledged the bad things happened and that the policy failed, but did argue that the intentions were good and that there are good stories that come from them. Here's that conversation with Candace Malcolm. So the government recruit a bunch of murderers to go off and kill kids. I just am trying to understand the accusation

because, again, because we're writing about this is a super controversial topic. I've heard from a lot of Canadians. I really respect what you're saying and I'm happy to continue this conversation as long as you want because I think I can learn from you in this instance because you're a lot more connected to it than I. But I've heard from people who say, you know, there was a, there was an Indian

residential school in my community and they got more money than the public schools or the Catholic schools and they had more resources and they had better teachers and they had nicer buildings. And I've talked to people who were graduates of these residential schools and they say that it changed their life and it made them on a better path towards succeeding in a modern economy. So like there's there's two sides to it, right? It's like I'm sure a lot of people went to school and had a miserable experience and they were homesick and they were sad. A lot of people really wanted their children to attend these schools because they saw it as an opportunity for betterment. Like I said, the schools weren't compulsory. They weren't mandatory. They weren't

going and scooping people up from their house despite there's a sort of a thought that that was happening that the Canadian police were going door to door and scooping kids up and taking them to these schools. That's a myth as far as I can understand. People wanted the schools. And sure, Like in any environment, there's going to be an abuse of power. There's going to be, there was abuse. And there was horrible, unspeakable abuse. And it's tragic. And anyone who was involved in that should be held accountable.

There's a reason we got rid of this program. It obviously failed. It didn't work, although some people did benefit from it. And Nigel Begar argued that First Nation communities often asked for Indian residential schools. And the mass grave story connotes murder and that it created a moral panic. Here's that clip. Well, as you say, Aaron, there was this claim back in three years ago, in Kamloops, based on ground-penetrating radar that revealed there had been earth movements under the ground, and it was assumed these were the mass graves of Indian kids, undiscovered, unknown. And, of course, to use the word mass graves, which is what the phrase that was used in the press by the New York Times and Al Jazeera does connote mass murder.

And then subsequently there were multiple claims, similar claims. And then you had the people starting to burn down Catholic churches. I think 83 had been burned down to date because some of these were. schools were run by Catholic religious orders. And as of now, there is no evidence of mass graves. There's no evidence that whoever is in those graves was murdered. And actually, in some cases, they're not even unknown. In other words, they are recorded.

It's just that the grave markers have worn away and don't exist. A lot of the graves were actually recorded in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission report. So right now, from my perspective, it seems as if the panic, the moral panic about mass killings of First Nations kids is not true. And that raises the question as to why was it propagated? and why did the I mean the journalists have a duty to interrogate claims and to assess evidence

and it seems they didn't and now that the evidence suggests that I mean it's possible it's possible someone will still will yet dig up the unknown graves of kids who were abused or killed possible but it hasn't happened and that's three years if that's the case, why aren't those who put about this myth only up to it?

Why don't we hear it read about it in newspapers? I guess people are being cautious to see, but correct me if I'm wrong. Right now it looks as if the claims were not true. Is that true? The important takeaway is that the mass grave story does not claim that the children were murdered, which is the angle Candace and Nigel have misunderstood or. misinterpreted. The TRC is very clear that it was often due to tuberculosis, poor living conditions, and lack of nutrition. But both Candace and Nigel were open to having a conversation.

And here's the thing. Dr. Sean Carlton and I debated on X. He accused me of carrying water for Indian residential school deniers by speaking with them on my show. Despite the fact that I've interviewed many on the right and left on this issue. I've spoken with government officials, journalists, First Nation leaders, and media pundits with varying perspectives. I believe they have every right to question things, but they should also understand the lived impact. From where I sit, this debate is dividing First Nations and everyday Canadians, more than it needs to. On the left, you have people pushing to criminalized skepticism. On the right, you have people being unnecessarily unsympathetic to indigenous history. So here's my position. If nations want to continue making these public claims,

they should be willing to back them up with evidence. If you're skeptical on the right, I challenge you to read the survivor stories and put yourself in their shoes of a First Nation's family. Because for us, this is not a debate, an abstract political debate. I'm the chief of my first nation. My grandmother attended St. Mary's Indian residential school, where she was abused so severely that she struggled with alcohol for the rest of her life. My aunt and several people I work with also went to St. Mary's. The same school Siamia Tiliot attended, who is now the last fluent Halklamalum speaker.

My mother was born with fetal alcohol syndrome disorder because of my grandmother's drinking. The cycle, trauma leading to substance use, leading to more trauma, still affects many families in my community and throughout Canada. So yes, there may be valid questions about the 215 anomalies and Kamloops, but that doesn't erase the documented abuse, the poor living conditions, and the thousands of confirmed child deaths that the TRC called the low estimate. And we need to be aware that this fight over words and claims is starting to hurt First Nations politically. In BC, Conservative leader John Rustad had party members accused of being deniers. MLA Dallas Brody, leader of 1BC, has been campaigning on the idea that First Nations get too much support. Federally, reconciliation didn't crack the top five issues in the last election. Prime Minister Mark Carney is nowhere near as folks.

on indigenous issues, as Justin Trudeau was. And now Indigenous Services Canada is facing a 5 billion budget reduction and 15% cuts over the next three years, which in my view means losing an investment our communities can't afford to lose. That's the landscape we're in. And if we don't find a way to bridge this divide, it's only going to get worse. Conclusion. In the end, the 2021 mass grave story has become less about evidence and more about the political and cultural trenches it has carved. On the one side are those who see it as confirmation of what survivors have been saying for years. A painful truth that must be faced head on. On the other are those who question the proof, the reporting, and the political capital it has generated. What gets lost in that crossfire

is the human reality. For First Nations families, like mine, the harms of residential schools are not up for debate. Their lived experience. They show up in the scars our parents and grandparents carried, in the trauma that still shapes our communities, in the economic and educational barriers we continue to face. Whether the number is 3,200, 4,100, or more, each figure represents a child who never made it home. That's why this conversation needs less grandstanding and more honesty. If public claims are made, the evidence must be provided openly.

If hard questions are asked, they must be paired with a willingness to confront the full scope of the truth. Criminalizing debate will deepen divides. Denying history will compound the harm. Reconciliation cannot rest on selective truth. If we only tell the parts of the story that fit our politics, whether to defend a narrative or to attack it, we fail the generations who lived this history. It takes courage to hold grief and skepticism in the same hand, to honor survivors pain while insisting on transparency, to demand accuracy without abandoning empathy, and to defend free expression without erasing the suffering. that brought us here. We cannot criminalize questions.

It makes the truth look weak and fuels distrust. And we cannot deny history. It reopens wounds that never healed. Those who demand silence in the name of sensitivity risk alienating Canadians who might otherwise stand with us. Those who downplay the abuse, death, and cultural destruction risk proving survivors right when they say their pain is minimized. The only way forward is to tell the whole truth, even when it's messy, incomplete,

and uncomfortable. The truth is the TRC makes it clear there are likely unmarked graves, and the areas where ground-penetrating radar found anomalies are an obvious place to start. But if a nation chooses not to excavate and provide evidence, then voices like Dallas Brody, Candice Malcolm, Francis Widowson, and others, have every right to raise questions, express doubt, and challenge the story. That's what accountability is, holding institutions, governments, and media to a standard of accuracy and holding ourselves to a standard of compassion. If we fail to do that, the gap between First Nations and the rest of Canada will only continue to widen until reconciliation is nothing more than a hollow. low political slogan. But if we do it, if we demand truth while showing respect, then maybe, maybe, just maybe,

we can replace mistrust with understanding and build something strong enough for us to all carry forward. Nuance isn't weakness. It's strength. It's how we protect both memory and integrity. It's how we move from symbolic reconciliation to meaningful change. I'm a First Nations chief. I've seen intergenerational pain.

I've also seen what happens when media, politicians or activists oversimplify our stories for clicks, for grants, or for ideological gain. That does not help us. It turns our history into a weapon, one that's just as likely to backfire. So this is the challenge for all of us. Tell the truth, the whole truth, not just the parts that feel good or are convenient, don't shut down dissent, don't weaponize grief, and don't assume that pain justifies bad reporting. Because the only way to build real reconciliation is to build it on

truth, documented, confirmed, accountable, and human. That's how we earn trust. That's how we honor survivors. And that's how we build a future worth fighting for. I don't know. You know.