Redressing Rights: The Indigenous Peoples’ Journey to the United Nations

To best understand the reasons behind Indigenous Peoples’ pursuit of the United Nations, one must revisit the 1920s and the story of Chief Deskeheh of the Haudenosaunee. Chief Deskeheh was the first Indigenous leader who attempted to speak at the League of Nations in Geneva, and he was allowed access because Canada had a seat through the British Empire. Sharon Venne, a Cree attorney and scholar, explains that “under international law, colonisers do not have a right of self-determination, whereas the colonised do…Deskeheh, living within a coloniser state, was able to lobby on the basis of treaties made with his ancestors.” (558). His reason for wanting acceptance from the League of Nations lied within the fact that Indigenous Peoples had historically been organized and self-governing peoples. Other nation-states were recognized as sovereign nations and had trade agreements and rights, and Deskeheh believed Indigenous Peoples should not be the exception to that rule. Although Deskeheh received some support, Canada and Great Britain outright prevented him from appealing to the League of Nations, going as far as directly “attacking the traditional longhouse council” of the Haudenosaunee (Venne 558). Not only did the League refuse to hear him, Canada also went as far as changing the Indian Act in 1927 which stopped Indians from fund-raising or taking legal action against the nation. It was not until a new institution appeared, the United Nations, and 66 years passed before “Indigenous peoples would be able to address an international meeting in [their] own voices.” (Venne 559).

There were several key issues that Indigenous Peoples were hoping to find reparation in by appealing to the United Nations. For one, their struggles had not been the slightest bit alleviated, and they had even worsened in some cases. Venne explained the situation vividly: “Indigenous peoples were being driven from our lands, our resources were being used without our consent, and our treaties were being disregarded by Canada and the United States.” Indigenous Peoples throughout North American banded together to discuss ways to regain their lands and rights while reestablishing treaties. In 1977, they convened at a Non-Governmental Organization held at the United Nations in Geneva. They brought many issues to the table, and “over 100 Indigenous peoples testified about the effects of natural resources exploitation, ‘development’ projects, repression and genocide.” (Venne 559). They rejected the label of minorities and asked to be recognized as people and for the UN to study their problems and struggles. Much of their arguments inspired the reports of José Martinez Cobo who was chosen “to undertake a comprehensive study of the problems of discrimination against Indigenous populations.” (Venne 561). Loosely paraphrased, the reports expressed the Indigenous Peoples’ desires to retain the little land they had left, to being the process of regaining the land wrongfully taken from them, to be recognized as a sovereign nation through means of language and institutions, and to maintain all of the above to be transferred to future generations. Cobo concluded that “the current international instruments did not contain provisions adequate to protect Indigenous peoples,” and therefore a declaration needed to be drafted (Venne 562).

Indigenous Peoples had some key principles underlying their movement. One is the right to self-governance—something all Indigenous Peoples has prior to colonization being forced upon them. When Indigenous Peoples reconvened in Geneva in 1977, they “could not use international mechanisms then in existence to decolonize…because the United States, Canada and other states refused to allow Indigenous peoples to use the UN Committee on Decolonization.” (Venne 564). Essentially, they are barred from many changes due to this one constraint. Another founding principle is the basic rights Indigenous Peoples have been prevented from asserting for many years. They had pushback in this area, too, because “the UN human rights system was set up to deal with the rights of individuals based on the Western model of human rights,” and these definitions are not inclusive of collective rights which is a crucial aspect of many Indigenous cultures (Venne 566). “The Declaration of Principles (Indigenous Draft Principles) was adopted at the Preparatory Meeting of Indigenous Peoples held in Geneva, Switzerland, from 27–31 July 1987,” and there were 22 principles in all submitted (Venne 568). In summary, they included themes such as self-determination, access to and permanent control over aboriginal ancestral-historical territories, rights to share and use land in a collective way, self-governance, restitution for violations of previous treaties, protection of history and culture, trade and relationships between Indigenous communities across the world, and the right to be recognized as subjects of international law.

After the 22 principles were submitted, it was an uphill battle for Indigenous Peoples to ensure they were incorporated into the final declaration. Venne argues that “in some ways, the struggle continues to this day.” (571). While the Indigenous Peoples had been working on their 22 principles, the UN issued Working Group had created their own 7 principles centered on anti-discrimination efforts by giving Indigenous Peoples equal rights and opportunity in political, economic, and social realms. The two approaches, when compared side-by-side, are significantly different in their scopes and overall intent. For example, the first principle of the Working Group “speaks to ‘[t]he right to the full and effective enjoyment of the fundamental rights and freedoms universally recognized in existing international instruments, particularly in the Charter of the United Nations and the International Bill of Human Rights,’” which was addressed in the International Bill of Human Rights, “which is not the primary concern of Indigenous peoples.” (Venne 571-572). The Working Group model also includes an individualistic focus while Indigenous Peoples prefer the collective rights of their nations. When the two principle works were present to the opposite group, there were many confrontations and disagreements. Finally, “the Working Group took up the Indigenous Draft Principles as a starting point for a Draft Declaration.” (Venne 572).

As the Working Group continued the draft in the early 1990s, some states like Canada, the United States, New Zealand, and Australia pushed back on certain concepts like self-determination, ultimately resulting in them removing that section from the draft. This caused an uproar from Indigenous Peoples, and “the five members of the Working Group agreed to accept that Indigenous peoples have a right to self-determination.” (Venne 573). Even after the change, states like Canada misconstrued definitions of the declaration and tried to twist them in a way that still kept rights away from Indigenous Peoples. Finally, the Declaration passed, but it did so with great opposition from Canada, the United States, New Zealand, and Australia. These nation-states have consistently sought to undermine the concerns of Indigenous peoples, so it is no coincidence that they continued to do so by opposing the adoption of the UN Declaration. A common theme of denial from these nation states is a struggle with accepting the lawful right of self-determination that Indigenous peoples possess. It is, perhaps, rooted in land and territory disputes because these nations do not want to give the rights of the resources back to a group of people they deem ill-worthy of political recognition. To this day, there are discrepancies over the term “Indigenous” and they are making excuses saying the term is not clearly defined for legal purposes, as well as arguments about how Indigenous rights do not “align” with their political beliefs or constitutions. In conclusion, these country leaders do not want to give up the stolen land and resources and/or deal with the consequences of their historical wrongdoings. It is a small victory that these four countries have since changed their vote in favor of the Declaration, but the work of Indigenous peoples in the UN is far from over.

Works Cited

Venne, Sharon H. “The Road to the United Nations and Rights of Indigenous Peoples.” Griffith

Law Review 20.3 (2011): 557-77. Print.

Assessing the Indigenous Research Scenario in Light of Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s Readings

All life on Earth should be respected, and when non-consenting or manipulated Indigenous peoples are being used as human guinea pigs for personal gain in the name of science, the matter has become a human rights concern. The theoretical example presented in this week’s essay discussion prompt was riddled with ethical issues related to research of Indigenous peoples. Linda Tuhiwai Smith, a professor of indigenous education at the University of Waikato in Hamilton, New Zealand, argues that unethical research of Indigenous nations traces back to the earliest years of colonization efforts. Centuries later, similar situations are still ongoing and the ethical concerns include, but are not limited to, the following: group consent issues, individual consent issues, the relationship between the group and individual consent, a risk/benefit analysis of the research, and secondary use consent issues. However, in order to fully understand the modern concerns associated with Indigenous research, one must revisit the reason for the distrust in the first place.

When colonizers first began taking control of the Maori tribes in New Zealand, they were calculated in their approach and always pretended their actions—including destroying Indigenous traditions and placing them on reserves—were for the betterment of all people. The Maori tribes were virtually controlled without any consent on their part, and “the issue is not just that they are blamed for their own failures but that it is also communicated to them, explicitly or implicitly, that they themselves have no solutions to their own problems.” (Smith 92).  Since they were historically viewed by settlers in a negative light and experienced the detrimental effects of colonization and the eradication of their culture, Indigenous peoples have a just fear of so-called research and betterment for their nation. As Smith puts it, “in the research context the terms ‘research’ and ‘problem’ are also closely linked,” and therefore any discussion of those terms in an interrelated context sets off warning signals in Indigenous communities (92). The historical trends clearly set the stage for a number of new concerns related to Indigenous research in the modern world.

The first category, group consent issues, is made evident in theoretical scenario offered up in the essay prompt. The Indigenous tribe as a whole was clearly hesitant (rightfully so) about the idea of research been conducted on them for Type II diabetes. Still, they agreed to meet with the researchers and formed their own committee of leaders, elders, local scientists, and other members of the community. This deciphering process held true to the movements Smith discussed in her work, such as Article 45 of the Indigenous Tribal Peoples of the Tropical Forests signed in Penang in 1993, which states “all investigations in our territories should be carried out with our consent and under joint control and guidance.” (119). In the scenario, the committee decided after much consideration that the research was not ultimately necessary for or beneficial to their people. This was the first violation be the research team because they proceeded regardless as if they had group consent.

This plays directly into another issue: individual consent. Similar to group consent, the individual has innate rights to protect Indigenous traditions and knowledge. Since Indigenous peoples have had their rights stripped away in the past, “they have attempted through the development of instruments such as treaties, charters and declarations to send clear signals to the world’s scientific and research communities that open-cast mining approaches to research are absolutely unacceptable.” (Smith 118). The research team from the university chose to go behind the committee’s decision to refuse research and infiltrated the community by planting their propaganda in the office of a cooperative local doctor. This act directly impeded on the rights of individual consent because the individuals had elected group leaders on their behalf and that decision to refuse research was treated with ultimate disregard. Individual and group consent and closely interwoven, and what impacts one ultimately impacts the other.

These initial two categories have a problem that lies within their relationship and how it relates to consent. By placing the research study guides in the doctor’s office, the research team successfully lured a number of Indigenous peoples with Type II diabetes to participate in studies. This seemingly disconnected act of individual consent directly violated the group consent because the Indigenous committee had banned the research from taking place within the community. The volunteers, led on by the doctor and researchers, not only had their “rights, interests, and sensitivities” exposed, they also indirectly shared the protected information of their people without group consent (Smith 119). It is clear that the two are too closely interwoven and that group and individual consent should have both been given prior to any research moving forward.

Next, there is a risk/benefit analysis associated with research. In this scenario, the Indigenous peoples had little to gain from the study because Type II diabetes is not something that needs to be targeted on an Indigenous level. It was also risky because “they noted their opposition to research on the remains of their ancestors and questioned this particular researcher’s involvement in an ostensibly medical genetic study on diabetes.” (Class Lecture Notes). Like much of the research and practices forced on Indigenous peoples throughout the decades and even centuries, this particular program did little to benefit the group being studied. What made it worse was the deeper and underlying purpose of the study that was rooted not in Type II diabetes, but rather anthropological genetic research. If the true intentions of the research had been made clear from the beginning, a decision would have been reached sooner and it is probably that no individuals would have taken part in the research.

Finally, there is a consent issue related directly to secondary use which is made clear through the most recent analysis. Since the Indigenous individuals were deceived under the guise of Type II diabetes research, it is completely unethical for the researchers to use their findings for anything but said research. The fact the cooperating individuals believed they were participating in a diabetes study is dishonest at best and a direct violation of human rights at worst. Ultimately, it is a sign of complete and utter disrespect to Indigenous peoples. Smith says this is interconnected to most Indigenous concerns because “the denial by the West of humanity to Indigenous peoples, the denial of citizenship and human rights, the denial of the right to self-determination—all these demonstrate palpably the enormous lack of respect which has marked the relations of Indigenous peoples and non-Indigenous peoples.” (120).

It is clear that this entire scenario was one giant consent issue and directly related to a lack of respect for Indigenous peoples. If the research team had been transparent in the beginning with their true intentions, the community would have known right away that they would not have wanted to participate. The doctor would have most likely been opposed to the propaganda being placed in the office. Even if it had been placed, the individuals would not have been susceptible to said propaganda because the motives would have been transparent. If the research had truly been just about Type II diabetes, it still would not have been necessary or beneficial to the Indigenous peoples and the consent would still be needed from all parties. Anything that disrespects the consent practices at any time is intrusive on human rights and should have appropriate consequences for the malevolent actions.

Works Cited

Smith, Linda Tuhiwai. Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. London: Zed, 2012. Print.

Indigenous Nationhood: Kahnawà:ke Mohawks

How can you be a nation when most of your initial territory is taken? It is difficult to model independence and self-governance as a nation when you are given “land reserved for your ‘use and benefit,’ with regulations on how you use that land, who gets to use it, what the terms of that use are.” (Simpson 10). Under these conditions, how does a group of indigenous peoples proceed as a sovereign nation? What is the appropriate compromise between indigenous peoples and settler nations? For the Kahnawà:ke Mohawks, the answer lies not in acceptance of that fate, but in their refusal to be dissolved into the colonial system. Audra Simpson, an Associate Professor of Anthropology and Native rights activist, argues there are three key ways in which the Mohawks of Kahnawà:ke have refuted full immersion into settler society, and those ideologies pave the way for indigenous peoples of the future.

Refusing ties to Canadian and American citizenship, the Kahnawà:ke Mohawks “insist upon the integrity of the Haudenosaunee governance.” (Simpson 7). They try to live in a state of nationhood, a complicated combination of being both indigenous peoples and occupying a territory overrun by colonialism. The struggle beginning in 1996 is best defined as the “question of membership,” an ongoing issue in which the Kahnawà:ke Mohawks attempt to balance both “political membership and formal recognition within their community” that is independent of the Canadian state (Simpson 8). Membership talk plays a large role in the community because although there are limited peoples on the reserve, it is crucial to understand why and how other members are connected to one another. While settler government seeks to absorb and control the Kahnawà:ke, “their political form predates and survives ‘conquests’; it is tangible (albeit strangled by colonial governmentality) and is tied to sovereign practices.” (Simpson 2).

To fully define their nationhood, the Kahnawà:ke want the local government to recognize a sovereignty within a sovereignty, which means acknowledging a Kahnawà:ke legal system within that of Canada’s. Although they identify as Kahnawà:ke Mohawks under Haudenosaunee governance, they are often forced to conform to many of the settler state ways, including registrations and international travel. What citizen are they? What authority do they answer to? “One challenges the very legitimacy of the other.” (Simpson 10). A society nested within another society will only work if one acknowledges the authenticity of the other. To make their culture and government defined, the Kahnawà:ke have fought to validate items such as a Confederacy passport for travel and politics apart from settler governance. However, their sovereignty can only be recognized if it legitimized in some way.

Therefore, the Kahnawà:ke want more than their culture to be recognized; they want their political sovereignty legitimized. Colonial governments often want to simply distinguish indigenous culture and traditions instead of declaring native governances to be successful and flourishing societies apart from the government, and so the “Iroquois [specifically the Kahnawà:ke] peoples remind nation-states such as the United States (and Canada) that they possess this very history, and within that history and seized space, they possess a precarious assumption that their boundaries are permanent, uncontestable, and entrenched.” (Simpson 22). This fleshed out through the Preamble to the amended Kahnawà:ke Membership Law in 2008, where it specifically rejects assimilation into the Canadian government and expresses the value of individual rights over collective rights (Simpson 14).

Finally, the Kahnawà:ke want detailed research dedicated to the history of their cultural and political systems so they can better govern themselves by their original ordinances. While the field of anthropology has paid attention to the histories of native peoples, little has been done to research their culture and background in light of political science, and both fields have failed epically in regards to a proper accounting of political theory because the research has been inclined to cultural traditions (Simpson 11). The assumption that indigenous nations are stable because they have been given land and allowed to keep their traditions is a dangerous one, and the Kahnawà:ke understand that much of their identity lies in defining their own self-governance. Research is required to evaluate what has and has not worked historically and paves the way for societal success.

By refusing to be eliminated from history and seen only as cultural memorabilia for tourism, Kahnawà:ke people are breaking ground for indigenous peoples all over the world. Native peoples cannot thrive under colonial sovereignties put into effect by settlers. They are more than their traditions and the meager amounts of land allotted to them. A society is not one or two aspects, but a medley of culture, people, and practices that give it the freedom to thrive under self-governed ordinances. If more indigenous peoples fight their assimilation into settler governments, refusing to adopt colonial mindsets, and more immigrants support the independence of these peoples, the world will see thriving native cultures in action for years to come.

Works Cited

Simpson, Audra. Mohawk Interruptus: Political Life Across the Borders of Settler States.

Durham: Duke U Press, 2014. Print.

Indigenous Feminism: A Discussion of Mana Wahine and Māori Women’s Theory

Understanding one’s background is key to self-discovery and fruition, so it is no surprise that Indigenous peoples are intent on the separation of their pedagogies and theories from those of the Western societies that colonized them. Instead of accepting a one-lifestyle-fits-all approach, they are determined to reconnect with their roots by studying the influence of their culture and historical background and the impression it leaves on social movements and the personal development of others. Using feminism as an example, Māori women believe that the Western definition of feminism is too broad and assumptive, and quick to leave out traces of historical and cultural impact. Māori people argue that those factors are crucial to developing new theories and defining movements, and Māori women state that sexual oppression is tied together with historical and culture oppression caused by colonization. Essentially, Indigenous peoples approach theory and pedagogy with a firm grasp on their background and the effect it has on the present movements, and this can contrast with Western views of feminism.

One primary issue Māori women have with Western feminism is the connotation of feminism in Indigenous cultures versus Western society; this is, perhaps, best described as the Indigenous abrasion to the conventional meaning associated with feminism coined by said cultures due to the obligation of white matriarchy. Dr. Leonie Pihama, a Māori scholar and activist states that “we [Māori women] are forever trying to see ourselves in the images created by the colonisers.” (4). The opinions and traditions of Indigenous peoples, especially women, have been diluted at best and erased at worst in terms of various movements started by Western culture. Instead of immediately discussing theory and change under the predetermined Western definitions, Indigenous people first must combat the adverse effects of colonialism and build a cornerstone for the development of theory and eventual pedagogy. Western societies fail to address the cultural and historical struggles of Indigenous people, therefore not starting with the underlying problem, and consequently having a weak foundation for mutuality in social movements.

This leads to another point of contrast: the assumption by Western and white cultures that one stance or classification fits all, thereby assuming positions for multitudes of diverse peoples without acknowledging the cultural and historical struggles of Indigenous peoples. Awatere argues that the “ability to control definitions is a consequence of white power and privilege.” (Pihama 5). While Western mainstream feminism focuses on sexual oppression, Indigenous feminism believes sexual oppression is rooted in cultural and historical oppression, arguing that the concepts are inseparable. This suggests that the best ally for Indigenous feminists is not Western feminists, but instead the men of their culture and background who have struggled with similar injustices. “It is Māori women and Māori men,” Pihama states, “who are more likely to be working alongside each other.” (8). This is contradictive to standard Western feminism, which often drives a wedge even further between men and women. If women across the world are to unite together for a form of global feminism and justice, it is vital that the Western feminists acknowledge the struggles unique to Indigenous women.

To combat the effects of colonization and its ties to feminism, many Māori women have reinvented their original place in society per the Mana Wahine theory. Pihama defines Mana Wahine theory as “a particular form of Māori theory that affirms the position and status of Māori women.” (10). Mana, loosely translated, means being simultaneously of the earth and ethereal, while Wahine means everything that is female and feminine in the Māori culture. This theory challenges the current view of Māori women and encourages people to study and hypothesize what happens at the juncture of being both Māori and female. It also directly addresses the impact of colonization and vocalizes what it has done and will continue to do unless changed. When lived out, this theory exemplifies the rediscovery of the position of Māori women in their culture as one of strength in a system that currently lessens their status. Through it people are reminded of the critical role Māori women play in society, and it reaffirms their worth in both cultural and historical practices.

Mana Wahine lays the groundwork for a cultural framework that can begin to withhold the pedagogical chains that impede growth for Māori children in the education system. Colonial ideologies of race, culture, and gender must be addressed and separated from the hoard of Western teachings thrust upon indigenous societies. Western theoretical frameworks are often generalized and assume all-inclusiveness without assessing the impact of colonization on historical and cultural issues. Indigenous peoples must break that mold and contend with the current system, showing that the history and culture of a people are crucial to the education of their youth. Indigenous peoples do not want history, culture, and tradition forgotten, creating generations of people brainwashed by Western culture. By equipping the Māori people with a rediscovered understanding of the cultural and historical impact colonization has had, their decedents can address social issues and lay the foreground for political change.

Works Cited

Pihama, Dr. Leonie. “Mana Wahine: Positioning Māori Women’s Theory.” (2015).