I’m a 55-year-old
Aboriginal man born and raised on a reserve on the west coast of British
Columbia. I had no intention or desire to be a leader but was always asked to
step into these roles as I grew up.BC Liberal MLA, for the
riding of Skeena, Ellis Ross
There is nothing remarkable or outstanding about my history. In fact, in
looking at my younger years, including my younger adult days, my story is
typical of thousands of Aboriginals that came before me and continue on to this
day.
My first realization of hopelessness came when I was approximately 14 years old
standing in front of our condemned fire hall and it occurred to me that I had
no future and that I would be doomed to wander the streets of my village doing
drugs, drinking alcohol and getting into trouble.
I decided right there that I would quit doing drugs. Instead, I poured my
physical and mental health into basketball. In our village, basketball is
highly popular, and it is the same with neighbouring communities. It was also
the only option I could see as an alternative to my situation at the time.
As the years went by, there were incidents in different settings that made me
reflect, and in turn, changed the direction in life.
In 2003, I was nominated to run for our band council which I innocently
accepted with complete naivety. The biggest misconception I had was that my
council was rich and I could somehow tap into that wealth and help fund the
youth basketball teams I was coaching at the time.
In my first month of council meetings, I found out not only did my council have
no money, we were in danger of being shut down by Indian and Northern Affairs
Canada because of the uncontrollable deficit we were in. With hard work and sacrifice,
we managed to turn things around in a couple of years, but it was painful.
It was even more painful for me to realize that the word “independence”
had no real meaning. In my first year, I was asked to go out and find money
from governments and the private sector to help fund our community needs and
proposed projects.
Growing up I was taught by my parents — who both went to residential school —
to work hard, take responsibility and be independent.
So, upon returning from my first trip to Ottawa, I informed my council I would
no longer go on trips to ask for money. It definitely wasn’t in my personal
upbringing to ask for money or help, so I didn’t want to do it as an elected
official.
I also believed it went against the grain of leaders who spoke at great lengths
about self-determination and self-governance. It became clear that these were
just words, and true independence was meaningless without a specific action
plan for it to become reality.
I subsequently removed myself from all portfolios that were connected to
government funded programs which I believed kept us in a state of dependence
and under the arm of the Indian
Act. I stayed on as chair of our treaty negotiations mainly because
nobody else wanted to do it, even though at the time it was almost the centre
of our plans. It also came with non-discretionary funds, which is rare when it
comes to Indian Affairs funding.
So I needed something else. I started to read our archives and recorded
everything that happened in my community which was not so different to other
Aboriginal communities across Canada.
Suddenly, I realized the systemic pattern of exclusion and control that had
been exercised over my people for generations. I recall a number of emotions
that ended with anger and thoughts of payback.
After a few days thought, I realized anger and revenge were not going to help
anybody and would probably make things worse. I started looking for other ways
to address our current and future circumstances.
Our chief councillor at the time was pushing for us to fully embrace Aboriginal
rights and title as a tool to get us to a better place. So, without legal
training, I started reading the case law, including different interpretations
and opinions. I would also have in-depth conversations with our lawyer who
specialized in the Indian
Act and rights and title principles.
In 2004, an LNG “import” proposal came to town. Almost at the same time, the Haida court case ruling came out
with a favourable ruling to First Nations which spelled out a duty of the Crown
to meaningfully consult and accommodate First Nations’ interests, including the
inescapable economic component (Haida
Nation v. British Columbia (Minister of Forests) [2004] 3 S.C.R.
511).
It was painful in the beginning for all three parties to implement the
direction given by the courts but it slowly became clear that our band would
now have a seat at the table for the first time in at least 60 years.
Those same 60 years brought incredible wealth and prosperity to everyone in our
territory except us.
We were in a difficult spot because we couldn’t really rely on anyone to give
us information on how to leverage case law principles into a better future.
It hadn’t been done before on a scale that would include all proposed projects
that came at us.
Not all projects had the full weight of our “asks” behind it.
Two projects in particular were to modernize existing facilities to be more
efficient and reduce emissions. In these cases, we put less emphasis on the
economics and supported the goal of less pollution. In this context, one
project worked out great, the other folded up and left town.
It took me a while to get everything straightened out in my thinking. But it
did convince me that if we do want to make a difference with respect to the
high number of Aboriginal suicides, high number of incarcerations, high number
of kids in care, high rates of substance abuse, then we couldn’t just rely on
casting blame and asking for others to fix it with more government money and
programs.
In the same breath, if we truly want to walk the talk of independence and
self-determination, then we had to change the narrative, because if the private
sector is on board, then government would be on board as well.
The bottom line is that our potential future is in our own hands. If we were to
achieve independence, government and the private sector could play a role.
Ultimately,
it’s up to us to decide what exactly it is we want. Once that decision is made,
then we have to be willing to pursue it. Our courage and fortitude might be
challenged over the long term, but eventually it would work out to the benefit
of our people and serve as a model for others.
I can tell you that my community soon began to trust my council’s vision and we
haven’t looked back. As things get progressively better, we can see the next
generation is already off to a better start. One that my generation could have
only dreamed of.
All this started as a 14-year-old kid with no answers or direction but
definitely knew what I didn’t want to become. It’s been a long, tough but
worthwhile journey.
Ellis Ross ... was re-elected MLA for Skeena in 2017, and currently
serves as the official opposition critic for LNG and Resource Opportunities and
is a Member of the Select Standing Committee on Legislative Initiatives.
Ellis worked full time as a taxi boat operator until the Haisla Nation Council requested that he become their first full-time councillor. Ellis served in this position for eight years, from 2003 to 2011. In 2011, Ellis was elected Chief Councillor of the Haisla Nation, and was re-elected by acclamation in 2013.
Ellis has been recognized as a business leader by both BC Business magazine and Canadian Business magazine. In 2012, Ellis was appointed the inaugural chair of the Aboriginal Business and Investment Council. In 2014, he was the only First Nations leader among 25 Canadians invited by then-Finance Minister Jim Flaherty to a public policy and budget retreat.
In recognition of his community service, Ellis was awarded the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee medal in 2013 and the Order of BC in 2014.
He is a proud father of two daughters and a proud grandfather.
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