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You will write a Reading Journal entry for the assigned readings. journal entry will summarize the reading’s key points, including, but not limited to, the author’s subject, purpose, question(s), thesis, and sources. Your entries will also include brief assessments of the reading’s strengths and weaknesses, supported by examples. Paraphrase the author’s words, and use direct quotations sparingly.Cite specific pages of the readings using Chicago style footnotes. Reconsidering 1969: The White Paper and the Making of the Modern Indigenous Rights MovementAbstract: The White Paper of 1969, which proposed to eliminate the legislated difference between Indigenous peoples and other Canadians promised a dramatic break from the settler status quo but became, instead, synonymous with continued assimilatory policies, an out-of-touch federal government, and (somewhat ironically) a catalyst for the modern Indigenous rights movement. Indigenous criticism of the paper was swift, with several Indigenous political organizations producing policy papers decrying the White Paper and demanding its retraction. And discussions would not stop there. In the ensuing decades, scholars have taken up the policy as a turning point for Indigenous politics. This article questions what this White Paper dominance has done for our understandings of the modern Indigenous movement and suggests that the policy has been mobilized in ways that separate the movement into pre- and post-eras, effectively erasing, or at least minimizing, pre-1969 political work and overemphasizing provincial and national unity after 1969.Keywords: Indigenous peoples, Indigenous rights movement, White PaperRésumé : Le Livre blanc de 1969, qui proposait l’élimination des différences dans les lois entre les Autochtones et les autres Canadiens, promettait une coupure spectaculaire par rapport au statu quo perpétué par les colonisateurs. Il a au contraire maintenu les politiques d’assimilation, montré un gouvernement fédéral déconnecté de la réalité et, chose paradoxale, est devenu un catalyseur du mouvement en faveur des droits des Autochtones. Ces derniers n’ont pas tardé à critiquer le Livre blanc; plusieurs organisations politiques autochtones ont en effet produit des documents d’orientation le décriant et demandant son retrait. Et les débats n’allaient pas s’arrêter là. Au cours des décennies suivantes, la politique a été considérée par les chercheurs comme un tournant pour la politique des Autochtones. Dans le présent article, l’auteure se demande en quoi l’empreinte du Livre blanc a été utile à la compréhension du mouvement contemporain d’émancipation des Autochtones. Elle laisse entendre qu’on s’est servi de la politique pour séparer le mouvement en deux périodes – un avant et un après –, ce qui a eu pour effet d’effacer ou du moins de réduire l’importance du travail politique accompli avant 1969 et d’en accorder trop à l’unité provinciale ou nationale après 1969.Mots clés : Peuples autochtones, mouvement de défense des droits des Autochtones, Livre blancThe Canadian Historical Review 100, 2, June 2019© University of Toronto Press doi: 10.3138/chr.2018-0082-2224 The Canadian Historical ReviewIndian relations with other Canadians began with special treatment by government and society, and special treatment has been the rule since Europeans first settled in Canada. Special treatment has made of the Indians a community disadvantaged and apart. – Jean Chrétien, Statement of the Government of Canada on Indian Policy, 1969We disagree with any unilateral attempt by government to extricate itself from its obligations for our people. The special relationships that have developed between Indians and the Federal governmentcarries immense moral and legal force. – Union of bc Indian Chiefs, A Declaration of Indian Rights: The bc Indian Position Paper, 1970We reject this policy. We say that the recognition of Indian status is essential for justice. – Indian Chiefs of Alberta, Citizens Plus, 1970The year 1969 was transformative in many ways. After all, who could forget the moon landing, Woodstock, and the release of the Beatles album Abbey Road? For many, it was a year associated with massive cultural and political shifts, technological innovation, and unbridled opportunity. But, for those concerned with twentieth-century Indigenous histories, 1969 carries stark reminders of something sinister: the federal government’s Statement of the Government of Canada on Indian Policy (White Paper).1 The brainchild of Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau and Minister of Indian Affairs Jean Chrétien, the White Paper prom- ised a dramatic break from the settler colonial status quo but, instead, quickly became synonymous with continued assimilatory policies, an out-of-touch gov- ernment, and (somewhat ironically) a catalyst for the modern Indigenous rights movement.The White Paper, which proposed to eliminate the legislated difference between Indigenous peoples and other Canadians under the assumption that this “difference” was responsible for continued socio-economic oppression and political marginalization, claimed equality as its driving motivation.2 To ensure Indigenous peoples benefited equally under Canadian law, the paper recom- mended abolishing the Indian Act, phasing out the treaties, and transferring the responsibility for Indigenous peoples from the federal government to the provinces.3 According to policy-makers, this radically altered policy approach would bring Indigenous peoples in from the margins of society, enabling them to participate in the benefits of Canadian citizenship in ways that had been made impossible through continued political, economic, and social oversight by the Department of Indian Affairs. Yet within this settler-oriented frame- work of justice and equality, policy-makers ignored the impacts of centuries of1 Jean Chrétien, Statement of the Government of Canada on Indian Policy (Ottawa: Queen’s Printer, 1969).2 Ibid.3 Ibid. Indian Act, RSc 1970, c. I-6.Making of the Modern Indigenous Rights Movement 225colonialism and racism (implying that these could simply be shrugged off by policy change and claims of equality) and failed to follow through with plans to genuinely consult with Indigenous peoples about changes to Indian policy, thus reinforcing, rather than eliminating, established paternalistic practices.This is not to say that Indigenous peoples were entirely pleased with existing Indian policy, unfulfilled treaty promises, and the overall history of Indigenous– settler relationships. But they balked at the federal government’s plans to abolish these structures, insisting that they went against Indigenous leaders’ feedback on current Indian policy, and were suspicious of what the ramifications of these changes might be for Indigenous peoples. The benefits to the settler state, how- ever, were clear; the White Paper would remove the federal government’s moral and material responsibility for Indigenous peoples. This action, according to Indigenous peoples, directly contradicted the terms of treaty and undermined Indigenous peoples’ special legislated status. Chrétien, however, was initially staunch in his defence of the policy, and, under fire from select critics in the House of Commons in July 1969, maintained that it was created in direct con- sultation with Indigenous peoples.4This was true, in part. Paul Tennant explains that, in March 1968, Indian Affairs mailed a booklet entitled “Choosing a Path” to every status Indian house- hold, political organization, and band council in Canada, outlining the current Indian Act and posing questions about potential amendments. After allowing time to review the booklet, public meetings were held at the community, zone, and national levels between June 1968 and May 1969, where chosen represent- atives discussed the Act.5 During these meetings, Indigenous leaders opposed the federal government’s plans and called for genuine participation in future policy decisions.6 Yet, when the White Paper was introduced in June 1969, it blatantly contradicted these wishes. Indigenous peoples, in turn, called for the policy’s immediate retraction.The federal government’s response came as swiftly as Indigenous criticism, with Trudeau and Chrétien backtracking, claiming the policy was just a proposal and nothing had been firmly decided. At one point, Chrétien even went as far as to suggest that House of Commons members and Indigenous leaders who had been critical of the proposals “may have not read carefully the government’s statement”7 and, thus, had “serious misunderstandings as to what the proposals4 Jean Chrétien, Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development, “Indian Policy: Where Does It Stand?” (Speech, Toronto, 16 October 1969), 3, Canadiana Pamphlets Collection, series xxxii, file xxxii-117, University of Saskatchewan Archives and Special Collections (USASc); see also Canada, House of Commons Debates (11 July 1969), 11123–6 (Frank Howard, Member of Parliament [MP]), 11129–35 (Robert L. Stanfield, Leader of the Opposition), 11135–11140 (Thomas S. Barnett, MP), 11140–2 (David Orlikow, MP), 11142–4 (Jean Chrétien, Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development).5 Paul Tennant, Aboriginal Peoples and Politics: The Indian Land Question in British Columbia, 1849–1989 (Vancouver: Ubc Press, 1990), 147.6 Sally Weaver, Making Canadian Indian Policy: The Hidden Agenda, 1968–1970 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1981), 5.7 Canada, House of Commons Debates (11 July 1969), 11142 (Jean Chrétien, Minister of Indian Affairs and Northern Development).226 The Canadian Historical Reviewmean.”8 In actuality, it was Trudeau and Chrétien’s understanding of the policy that was the problem. Working from incorrect assumptions about the nature and meaning of treaties, for instance, Trudeau insisted the federal government would not abrogate the treaties but, rather, would respect them until such time as unfilled promises for “so much twine and so much gun powder” were rec- onciled.9 According to Trudeau, this would satisfy and “complete” treaty obli- gations, rendering existing agreements redundant. He demonstrated a limited and Eurocentric understanding of treaties as contracts rather than covenants, yet continued to suggest it was Indigenous peoples who misunderstood. Never- theless, Trudeau and Chrétien eventually saw the writing on the wall and, faced with continued pressure, were forced to withdraw the paper on 17 March 1971.10With such controversial beginnings, it is not surprising that, in the imme- diate aftermath of the White Paper’s withdrawal, significant discussions sur- faced, including position papers from political organizations in Ontario, British Columbia, Alberta, and Manitoba; a political manifesto by Indian Association of Alberta President Harold Cardinal; and countless newspaper articles and letters.11 Long after its retraction, the White Paper continues to loom large in the popular and scholarly imagination. We can hardly speak of twentieth-century Indigenous politics without referencing the White Paper, but often these dis- cussions focus on the policy as a watershed moment, characterizing it as the moment that changed everything for Indigenous politics.But is this emphasis on the White Paper as a turning point and the marker of the modern Indigenous rights movement entirely justified? What impacts has this emphasis had on the singular importance of this document and on the response it engendered in our understanding of twentieth-century Indigenous politics as a whole? The White Paper had an unmistakable influence, and this is not something I aim to dispute. Rather, I suggest that in the ensuing years it has been mobilized in ways that separate the movement into pre- and post-eras, ef- fectively erasing or at least minimizing pre-1969 political work and overempha- sizing provincial and national unity after 1969. This has overshadowed the fact that, in the decades before the policy, Indigenous peoples across Canada were already working towards pan-Indigenous unity with some robust political or- ganizations (provincial and national as well as women’s associations), pre-dating the White Paper. Those organizations that followed, including the provincial8 Chrétien, “Indian Policy.”9 “Prime Minister Trudeau: Remarks on Indian Aboriginal and Treaty Rights, partof a speech given August 8th, 1969 in Vancouver, British Columbia,” 2, CanadianaPamphlets Collection, series xxxii, file xxxii-156, USASc.10 MinutesoftheUnionofbcIndianChiefsSecondAnnualConvention,16–21November 1970, Vancouver bc, Union of bc Indian Chiefs Resource Centre (URc); Union of bc Indian Chiefs (UbcIc), A Declaration of Indian Rights: The BC Indian Position Paper (Vancouver: UbcIc, 17 November 1970).11 ManitobaIndianBrotherhood,Wahbung:OurTomorrows(Winnipeg:Manitoba Indian Brotherhood, October 1971); Indian Chiefs of Alberta, Indian Association of Alberta, Citizens Plus (Edmonton: Indian Association of Alberta, 1970); Union of bc Indian Chiefs, A Declaration of Indian Rights; Harold Cardinal, The Unjust Society: The Tragedy of Canada’s Indians (Edmonton: Hurtig Publishers, 1969).Making of the Modern Indigenous Rights Movement 227Union of bc Indian Chiefs (UbcIc), had longer and more complex pasts that also pre-dated the policy document. Crediting the White Paper for enabling suc- cessful pan-Indigenous unity gives uneven recognition to settler-colonial policy over generations of Indigenous political work and treats the policy as an isolated document, which obscures the long-standing trends of eliminatory and assimi- latory attitudes that informed it. Further, the legacy of the White Paper also im- plies that national unity was achieved through coordinated national Indigenous responses to the policy, when, in reality, despite the important coordinating work of the National Indian Brotherhood (which brought together provincial and territorial organizations), local responses remained the primary focus for many Indigenous leaders. I view 1969 and the White Paper less as a breakpoint moment for Indigenous people and politics and more as one of many compo- nents of the movement that had longer and deeper roots. Drawing on the liter- ature and ideas of the “Long Sixties”, I reject a limited definition of the sixties bound up with ideals of radical ruptures with the past and, instead, highlight continuity between historical political eras of Indigenous politics.12 This perio- dization in relation to Indigenous political work makes room for understanding 1969 and the White Paper as creating change, without minimizing the influence of what came before.white paper hIStoRIogRAPhyThe impact of the White Paper on Indigenous politics has been well researched and documented by historians, anthropologists, and others, and these efforts will not be reproduced here. Instead, I will highlight aspects of the scholar- ship that debate the White Paper as a pivotal moment. I am interested in un- derstanding why the notion of the policy as a watershed moment dominates historical consciousness. Sally Weaver’s 1981 book Making Canadian Indian Policy: The Hidden Agenda 1968–1970 offers an inside look at the ideologies and motivations of federal policy-makers in the White Paper era.1

3 Examining how the policy was developed within the federal government, Weaver exposed how policy-makers had hoped to implement concepts of equality and participatory democracy. She embraces the controversy that surrounded the White Paper, par- ticularly in terms of policy-makers’ failed attempts at true consultation; never- theless, she remains firm in her conclusion that the policy sparked renewed interest in pan-Indigenous organizing, calling it the “single most powerful cat- alyst in the Indian Nationalist movement.”1412 SeeLaraCampbell,DominiqueClément,andGregoryS.Kealey,eds.,Debating Dissent: Canada and the Sixties (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012); Karen Dubinsky et al., eds., New World Coming: The Sixties and the Shaping of Global Consciousness (Toronto: Between the Lines, 2009); Alice Echols, Shaky Ground: The Sixties and Its Aftershocks (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002); Van Gosse, Rethinking the New Left: An Interpretive History (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005); Bryan Palmer, Canada’s 1960s: The Ironies of Identity in a Rebellious Era (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009).13 Weaver, Making Canadian Indian Policy, 3.14 Ibid., 171.228 The Canadian Historical ReviewIn 1989, historian James R. Miller followed suit, and while he, like Tennant, contextualized the White Paper amid a lengthy history of Indigenous political work, Miller also viewed the policy paper as a turning point. He wrote: “Perhaps more im- portant, in the process of responding to the white paper, Indian organizations were politicized to fight the federal government and found for the first time they were sufficiently united to do so in a disciplined and effective way. The white paper thus initiated two decades of political and constitutional struggle by native peoples.”15 Although the continuity of political efforts before and after 1969 is clearly impor- tant, the White Paper is singled out by Miller as a key moment of politicization. Others agreed, with Peter Kulchyski suggesting that the “struggle over the White Paper became a historical turning point” in Indigenous political mobilization, and Dale Turner concluding simply: “It is important to see the White Paper as a cata- lyst for shifting Indian politics in Canada.”16 The narrative of the White Paper as a central turning point continues to inform recently published scholarship as well. In the conclusion to the edited collection Roots of Entanglement: Essays in the History of Native-Newcomer Relations, published in 2018, Alan Cairns writes: “The defeat of the 1969 federal government White Paper by Indian organizations, and its subse- quent withdrawal by Prime Minister Trudeau, ended what is appropriately called the colonial era.”17 Insisting the policy was a “watershed” for Indigenous politics, Cairns also argues that it initiated a “political awakening” for Indigenous peoples, and he uses the terms “pre-White Paper” and “post-White Paper” to frame his discussion.18 Together, this creates the impression that the political work prior to 1969 was of little consequence to the White Paper era.Still, other scholars have challenged the centrality of 1969 and the White Paper to the history of Indigenous activism, though these efforts are limited. Rauncie Murdoch-Kinnaird’s 1996 article on the Union of Saskatchewan Indians argues: “Discussion of Indian political movements are often tied to the 1969 White Paper, as if all Indian politics has been initiated by Whites. In fact, there were many political Indian organizations prior to the late 1960s.”19 Tennant’s 140-year history of bc Indigenous politics also provides a critical per- spective on the White Paper, based on his exploration of generations of formal and informal political organizing. Tennant acknowledges the broader context for pan-Indigenous politics in British Columbia, including existing political organizations and the consultation meetings for the White Paper, though he does concede the policy created a significant political shift.20 Elisabetta Kerr also15 James R. Miller, Skyscrapers Hide the Heavens: A History of Indian-White Relations in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1989), 230.16 PeterKulchyski,“40YearsinIndianCountry,”CanadianDimension37,no.6(2003): 33–6; Dale Turner, This Is Not a Peace Pipe: Towards a Critical Indigenous Philosophy (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2006), 14.17 Alan C. Cairns, “Aboriginal Research in Troubled Times,” in Roots of Entanglement: Essays in the History of Native-Newcomer Relations, ed. Myra Rutherdale, Kerry Abel, and Whitney P. Lackenbauer (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2018), 405.18 Cairns, “Aboriginal Research,” 409.19 Rauncie Murdoch-Kinnaird, “The Union of Saskatchewan Indians: AnOrganization of Indian People for Indian People,” Past Imperfect 5 (1996): 121.20 Tennant, Aboriginal Peoples and Politics, 149.Making of the Modern Indigenous Rights Movement 229offers a slightly different interpretation of the policy in her article, which ex- plores whether or not the White Paper was a watershed moment in the struggle for Indigenous rights. She concludes that while it “was not a major turning point in improving the status of Aboriginals in Canada, [it] succeeded in inspir- ing activism,” thus solidifying the White Paper’s place as a catalyst for Indige- nous resistance even as she recognizes past work.21So why, despite this scholarship acknowledging the strong political efforts that came before 1969, does the White Paper continue to dominate? In this issue, Tom Hooper is able to carefully trace the origins of the decriminalization myth regarding homosexuality in 1969, but the causality of White Paper dominance is not as clear. Though there are some clues. Weaver’s work is narrowly focused on the immediate time frame of the White Paper era and views any real and potential political change from the perspective of the federal government and national Indian policy.22 Con- sidering the atmosphere in which the paper was drafted – whereby policy-makers truly viewed it as a break from the status quo – Weaver’s emphasis on the change the proposal wrought is understandable. Tennant and Murdoch-Kinnaird’s discus- sions, on the other hand, are regional political examinations, which, in contextu- alizing the White Paper, suggest a less dramatic influence. Elsewhere in the field of Indigenous history, references to the policy are ubiquitous, but they are not the main focus. Many authors tend to use brief discussions of the White Paper era as a shorthand tool to situate their principal historical narratives, spending little time on fleshing out the difference between pre- and post-1969 politics, which, in turn, contributes to leaving White Paper dominance intact.23eARly twentIeth-centURy PRovIncIAl oRgAnIzAtIon In the weStContrary to what some of the White Paper narrative suggests, there were nu- merous Indigenous organizations seeking pan-tribal unity that were operational prior to 1969, as various examples from Western Canada demonstrate. The early to mid-twentieth century witnessed the creation of several provincial po- litical organizations in western Canada – many which were premised on earlier instances of inter- and intra-tribal cooperation that will not be explored here.24 In British Columbia, where Aboriginal rights and title to land remained21 Elisabetta A. Kerr, “Pierre Trudeau’s White Paper and the Struggle for Aboriginal Rights in Canada: An Analysis of the Extent to which the White Paper Was a Turning Point in the Struggle for Aboriginal Rights and Land Claims in Canada,” Great Lakes Journal of Undergraduate History 5, no. 1 (2017): 50.22 Weaver, Making Canadian Indian Policy.23 See Glen Sean Coulthard, Red Skin White Masks: Rejecting the Colonial Politics ofRecognition (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2014); Turner, This Is Nota Peace Pipe.24 Fordiscussionsonnineteenth-centuryIndigenouspoliticalorganizingintheWest, see Keith Thor Carlson, ed., A Stó:lō Coast Salish Historical Atlas (Vancouver: Douglas & McIntyre, 2001), 170–3; Marianne Ignace and Ronald Ignace, Secwépemc People, Land, and Laws: Yerí7 re Stsqeys-kucw (Montreal and Kingston: McGill Queen’s University Press, 2017), 462–3; R.M. Galois, “The Indian Rights Association, Native Protest Activity and the ‘Land Question’ in British Columbia, 1903–1916,” Native Studies Review 8, no. 2 (1992): 6–7.230 The Canadian Historical Reviewunaddressed due to limited treaty making, Indigenous peoples focused on pres- suring federal and provincial governments to solve the bc land question. In the first decade of the twentieth century, these efforts were carried out (with lim- ited success) by pan-tribal organizations, including the Indian Rights Associa- tion (IRA) and the Interior Tribes of British Columbia (Itbc). Indeed, continued Indigenous pressure and a shift in federal politics with the election of Robert Borden’s Conservatives led to the creation of the Royal Commission on Indian Affairs in the province of British Columbia (or the McKenna-McBride Commis- sion). Between 1913 and 1916, the commissioners visited reserves to inspect the land base and hold public hearings on reserve land issues. The commissioners were somewhat surprised when, during these hearings, Indigenous community members spoke freely and consistently about all of the concerns they had – not just with reserve lands – deftly using these spaces for their own political agendas.In response to what Indigenous leaders anticipated would be a disappoint- ing final report, the active and disparate bc Indigenous organizations decided to unite. In 1916, a conference in Sk ̄wx ̄wú7mesh territory attended by approx- imately sixteen Indigenous nations resulted in the Allied Tribes of British Columbia (Atbc), a new pan-Indigenous organization incorporating the IRA, the Itbc, and the Nisga’a Land Committee. This new organization allowed Nisga’a, Interior Salish, and southern nations to pursue land claims as a cohesive pro- vincial force rather than as isolated groups.The Atbc united in opposition to the Canadian state, but their capacity for coordinated activism would be short-lived. In 1927, the organization, weakened by the Special Joint Committee’s ruling against them regarding the land claim, were dealt a fatal blow by the federal government. A strategic amendment to the Indian Act via section 149A prohibited Indigenous peoples from hiring lawyers to pursue land claims, thus undercutting the base of Indigenous political organ- izing in this era. In response, the Atbc formally disbanded, effectively ending the province’s best shot at a provincial organization.Elsewhere in the West, twentieth-century political organization took on a slightly different trajectory largely because of the negotiation of the numbered treaties between 1871 and 1921 (covering Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba). While their Indigenous counterparts in British Columbia were pushing for land claims and Indigenous rights recognition to be negotiated in the absence of existing treaties, First Nations in the Prairie provinces were seeking the proper implementation of treaty promises and developed local and regional responses accordingly.25 Alberta’s principal organizations, the Indian Association of Alberta (IAA) and the Métis Association of Alberta (MAA) had been functioning as provincial representatives since the 1930s.26 The IAA, founded in 1939 by John Callihoo and Metis leader Malcolm Norris, grew out of the Saskatchewan-based25 Arthur J. Ray, Jim Miller, and Frank Tough, Bounty and Benevolence: A History of Saskatchewan Treaties (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queens University Press, 2000); James R. Miller, Compact, Contract, Covenant: Aboriginal Treaty-Making in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009).26 Laurie Meijer Drees, The Indian Association of Alberta: A History of Political Action (Vancouver: Ubc Press, 2002).Making of the Modern Indigenous Rights Movement 231League of Indians of Western Canada (lIwc), which had been operating in Saskatchewan since 1928. Alberta and Saskatchewan leaders, however, soon found that their interests and political goals were too dissimilar to be effectively addressed in a regional organization, and the IAA made a deliberate break with the lIwc to focus on provincial politics.27 The IAA came to represent the treaty Indian population and drew considerable influence from the pre-existing MAA as well as from organizations across the West. The MAA also influenced the crea- tion of the Saskatchewan Métis Society in 1931, with both organizations sharing the principal goals of attaining land and access to education and employment.28Near the end of the Second World War and into the early postwar years, Saskatchewan boasted several First Nations organizations, including the Protec- tive Association for Indians and Their Treaties (PAIt), established in 1939, the southern-based Association of Saskatchewan Indians (ASI), founded in 1944, and the Union of Saskatchewan Indians (USI), which brought together the ASI, the PAIt, and the Saskatchewan branch of the North American Indian Brother- hood (nAIb) into a provincial organization in January 1946.29 Provincial unity under the USI was tentative, however, with some attendees of the 1946 meeting dissatisfied with the uneven regional representation of First Nations peoples. This resistance ensured that the USI (which would eventually become the rec- ognized provincial organization, the Federation of Saskatchewan Indians) had a rocky start. In fact, mere months after the USI’s formation, the Queen Victoria Treaty Protective Association emerged to represent Treaty 4 nations after organizers claimed the USI was too closely linked to the provincial Cooperative Commonwealth Federation and was not representing their interests.30The road to provincial unity was rough and remained delicate once achieved. Nevertheless, it was clear that long before the White Paper arrived on the scene, Indigenous peoples in the Western provinces had built robust political forums that equipped them to address their unique local needs. By 1969, Indigenous peoples had significant experience with political unity, and the Federation of Saskatchewan Indians (formerly the USI) and the IAA were key players in White Paper resistance. Yet, as Tennant reminds us, “as 1969 began, British Columbia was the only province west of Nova Scotia not to have a province-wide polit- ical organization able to speak for all status Indians.”31 It would not be until27 Ibid., xiii–xiv.28 Sarah Nickel, “‘The Right to Be Heard’: Saskatchewan First Nations and MétisPolitical Activism, 1922–1946” (MA thesis, University of Saskatchewan, 2009).29 Murdoch-Kinnaird,“TheUnionofSaskatchewanIndians”;Drees,IndianAssociation of Alberta; Joe Sawchuk, Métis Land Rights in Alberta: A Political History, Métis Association of Alberta (Edmonton: Métis Association of Alberta, 1981); James M. Pitsula, “The ccF Government and the Formation of the Union of Saskatchewan Indians,” Prairie Forum 19, no. 2 (1994): 131–51; Nickel, “The Right to Be Heard.”30 Pitsula, “The ccF Government,” 144.31 Tennant,AboriginalPeoplesandPolitics,149.Formoreonwomen’spoliticalorganizing, see Sarah Nickel, “‘I Am Not a Women’s Libber Although SometimesI Sound