We’ve long known that history is the preserve of the victors who not only get to determine what we remember about the past and shape into a narrative, but in doing so also get to determine what we forget about the past. Perhaps more than anywhere else, this is most potent in the ways we tell the stories of colonialism – those tales of heroic explorers who set out into the unknown and discover new lands, new peoples, new plants and animals, and then get to claim them for their King, Queen or Emperor, by right of discovery. Except, of course, that these were not new places, peoples and things, and in some cases (think Aboriginal Australians) these were civilisations that had existed for tens of thousands of years. These victors’ histories of colonialism and empire tell stories of heroic civilisation of the natives, of their education and redemption from savagery, of their being made just like us and at times of their failure to be just like us because of their laziness, their licentiousness and their refusal to engage with an obviously superior society. What these histories of colonialism and empire do not do for the most part is tell this as a story of colonisation, of enslavement, of dispossession and of appropriation – and in failing to do so these histories told by the victors are falsehoods.
It is these falsehoods that are debunked by the work of indigenous historians whose work explores colonisation and empire, and Daniel Paul’s excellent We Were Not the Savages is a fine example of indigenous history, of the indigenous experiences of the ravages of colonisation, in this case including of dispossession and appropriation, and given the history of Nova Scotia the consequences of the enslavement of others. Paul is uncompromising in his narrative, building his history from within a Mi’kmaq perspective – the other side of the divide from the newcomer perspective that usually frames those histories. He crafts an image of a pre-Columbian Mi’kmaq world (noting that it is not pre-contact – we know that Norse and Basque visitors pre-dated 1492) building on indigenous ways of seeing and knowing the world, of relating to others (human and non-human) and in doing so provides a base to understand indigenous responses to colonisation.
For much of the early colonial period, Mi’kmaq territory was contested space between three peoples; Mi’kmaq, British and French. This presented a complex interplay of forces as the indigenous struck alliances based in local circumstances and conditions, trusted that treaties had meaning and integrity rather than being the opportunist ‘holding’ agreements they tended to be – more honoured in their breach (there is nothing distinctive for the Mi’kmaq there!) – and worked to control their world on their terms. What may surprise many taught in the British tradition is that Paul sees the French as more honourable, more willing to engage with Mi’kmaq on Mi’kmaq terms and more willing to treat the Mi’kmaq nation fairly and decently. The parallel of this is an unrelenting and overwhelming image of British arrogance and contempt, and more challenging to the dominant British-derived narrative, more savage. It is difficult to read the reproduced edicts from British governors that offer a sliding scale of bounty for Mi’kmaq scalps (scalping was the primarily a practice of the colonisers) tied to sex and age (in most cases, the bounty for children was half that of adult males) and continue to see the British government as civilised and honourable. This was not ‘smoothing the pillow of the dying race’ as was so often claimed, but arguably genocide (Paul argues this case convincingly).
Paul is not a ‘professional’ historian, which might also challenge some readers. This means that rather than interpret official documents, in many cases he represents them in full. The long central chapter on the Indian Act of 1876, for instance, reproduces large sections of the Act as part of its section-by-section exposition, which might sound dull but Paul’s writing style, packed with examples of the effects of the Act and of many of its amendments makes this a lively and engaging discussion. He also reproduces sizeable sections of other publications, contemporary and subsequent, including pieces by academic historians, where they make his point or provide the basis for his subsequent argument. There is something delightfully non-prepossessing about this, a humility and lack of ego that makes clear that in building his argument that savagery lay with the colonisers he is standing on the shoulders of others who have gone before, and showing that this indigenous view is not just fanciful revisionism but an analysis built in scholarly rigour. What’s more, most of the case is built on official documents: as is often the case with indigenous based histories there is also some indigenous knowledge invoked and developed, but the vast majority of what is here is the standard archival material of scholarly history. This is the kind of thing settler historians need to learn to better read to see the indigenous experience: most of us do so badly if we do at all.
It is a compelling analysis that pulls no punches. What’s more, in being based in an indigenous worldview it challenges us to rethink how we shape and structure the past. For historians, periodisation is a key framing device allowing us to cluster similar or related events into a narrative with distinct markers along the way. Paul’s ‘markers’ are not those of conventional Canadian (or as much as I am aware, Maritimes) history; this presents a different way of making sense of the past, of shaping and framing it and pointing to key moments or events where there is a systemic or structural shift. Confederation, for instance, merits only 2 pages; the negotiated peace between Mi’kmaq and British in 1761 (the ‘burying the hatchet ceremony) has 11 pages turned over to it. This is not a conventional, settler-centric view of the past.
Paul was very much an insider to contemporary Mi’kmaq politics and state relations having worked for both the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development and for Mi’kmaq representative groups in Nova Scotia from the late 1960s until he retired. Paradoxically this seems to have made weakest his discussion of contemporary events where he focuses on what he calls ‘the struggle for freedom’. This section, which is very good and highlights just how parlous is the contemporary position of Nova Scotia’s first peoples, is dominated by corporate and statist dynamics. There is very little mention of non-state activism, of direct action politics and the like yet these approaches were powerfully present across Canada during this period. It may be that there is little in the Mi’kmaq world that links to this activism – which would surprise me because I understand that there were activist events in the wider (former) Wabanaki confederation of which Mi’kmaq were an element. This chapter, then, seems problematic, yet for what it does it also seems comprehensive.
Paul builds a compelling case that Mi’kmaq ‘were not the savages’, and in doing so challenges much of the Canadian claim to fair treatment of its indigenous peoples and British imperial claims to having been a force for civilisation, education and betterment. This is very much the history of history’s losers, and for that alone is a better path into histories of the colonisation of Canada than most other narratives. It is also the kind of approach to histories of empire and colonisation that we need more of – and it is up to my band, as professional and academic historians, as much as it is to indigenous peoples to faithfully tell those histories of colonialism, enslavement, dispossession and appropriation, and in doing so to see the world from what the anthropologist Clifford Geertz called ‘the native’s point of view’.