It was eighteen years ago this month that I first handed to a Vancouver Sun newspaper editor a list of possible mass grave sites of Indian residential school children on Canada’s west coast, based on government documents and statements from eyewitnesses who buried children there. I and these witnesses were flatly ignored: not only then, but every other time over the subsequent years that we presented such evidence to the same newspaper.
Bone sample found at Brantford residential school mass grave, November 2011Year after year, despite all our public protests, forums, and documenting of the location of the mass graves of these children, the Vancouver Sun‘s indifference to the worst crime in Canadian history continued. And this same blind eye approach was replicated by every other “mainstream” media outlet across Canada — even when, in December of 2011, these media received from me evidence of bone and clothing samples unearthed from the Brantford residential school mass grave.
But lo and behold! Suddenly this past week, as if I’d never spoken to them, the Sun newspaper finally reported on residential school graves! I wasn’t mentioned in their article, of course; nor was the word “genocide”, or any of the hundreds of witnesses to these crimes that our work has given voice to since 1997.
Instead, a young, fresh faced graduate student nobody’s ever heard of received front page billing for her supposed “identifying” of children’s graves at the United Church residential school in Brandon: one of the very sites we had named to an oblivious Sun newspaper in March of 2008.
Did somebody say spin doctoring?
This past week, I searched for our eyewitnesses in Vancouver’s downtown eastside. I didn’t find one of them. They’re all gone now, either dead, bought off, or drifted off somewhere. So it’s safer these days for the killers in church and state to talk about the undeniable mass graves of their victims, through carefully manicured media stories that lead us nowhere.
That’s what the guilty do, after all: and they do it successfully, thanks to the cowed indifference and the five second memory of not only the drugged up public, but the legions of bought and paid for academic “experts” on our home grown Genocide that killed many tens of thousands of little children.
These days, I feel a lot like a solitary survivor of a lost continent, or people: watching as history gets rewritten, and reframed, so that the official truth, the land, and all the arrangements stay in the same bloody hands. But like my old buddy Joe Hendsbee, a blacklisted communist longshoreman used to tell me,
“When they gotta keep telling their Big Lie, over and over, it just proves they’re fucking desperate.”
Paraphrasing Joe, the author of The Art of War, Sun Tzu, once wrote: If an enemy commander repeatedly speaks soothing but false reassurances to his people, he has lost his power.
The Canadian establishment has in truth lost its power, and stands exposed as a corrupt and murderous regime, along with their sponsors in London and Rome: something that all the King’s horses and all the media spins won’t alter one bit. And nothing is absolved, and nothing can be healed, as long as that regime totters on, like a condemned ghost.
And that, dear readers, leaves matters in your own trembling hands. There is nothing compelling you to believe, or fund, or obey murderers in high office, or their laws. Why so many of you who are aware of these genocidal crimes continue to do so I chock up to habitual behaviour rather than deliberate collusion. But ultimately, that’s no defense, of course. For nothing has been absolved, and nothing healed.
Let me repeat that: Nothing has been absolved, and nothing healed.
Every crime, like every action, has its consequence that cannot be denied: that’s simply the Law of Nature. And so one of these days, when the child killers who wear clerical robes along with their paid journalistic hacks awaken to the fact that there is no escape for them or for their deeds, we will witness — even here in Canada — one of those lovely historic moments when the little shit on the big throne tumbles and falls.
And that’s up to us.
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