That the revolutionary Marxist concept of “decolonization” should apply to Canada, itself a former colony that gained independence with scarcely a drop of blood shed, had no legacy of slavery, and then developed as an independent nation without significant internal violence, might seem like quite a reach. But the idea gained a toehold here 50 years ago and, after remaining quiescent for decades, has metastasized into what we see today: a conviction that Canada’s political and social structures are inherently oppressive and racist and must be torn down.
The Berger Inquiry marked a significant moment when indigenous voices, long marginalized, were thrust into the national spotlight, challenging the technocratic dreams of pipeline routes with a vocal assertion of sovereignty and cultural survival. In 1975—one year into the inquiry—the Dene issued their soon-famous “Declaration” asserting that Canada’s indigenous peoples were the neglected inhabitants of a “Fourth World” and demanding “recognition of the Dene Nation by the governments and peoples of the world.”
Whether or not they realized what they were doing, the Dene were communicating that “decolonization” was not a philosophical abstraction but an intrinsic Canadian reality. It seems far-fetched to think such obviously refried Marxism would spring spontaneously from within a remote northern indigenous band. And it didn’t.
This ideological framing did not always align with the perspectives of the indigenous communities themselves, however. The Dene activists were opposed not merely by the Pierre Trudeau government but by some prominent native leaders. “Even Harold Cardinal, respected Cree leader, condemned the Dene Declaration,” wrote Glen Coulthard, associate professor of First Nations and Indigenous Studies at the University of British Columbia, in his introduction to “The Fourth World.” The Berger Inquiry instead represented an “intrusion of left-wing thinking that is perhaps much closer to the academic community in Toronto than it is to the Dene.” Decolonization, in other words, was an imported product.
In the end, Justice Thomas Berger suggested a decade-long intermission on the grand plans of “oil barons” and “politicos.” The Mackenzie Valley Pipeline was cast aside. Some of the North’s indigenous peoples—especially the Inuvialuit—would come to rue the moratorium. The pipeline was their one serious shot at generating genuine economic wealth to provide permanent jobs and, rather than live off Ottawa indefinitely, to decolonize in practical terms. The project was revived in the mid-2000s and formally approved, but then dropped, probably forever, due to low natural gas prices. Meanwhile, dozens of southern First Nations began working to become part of the modern economy.
But Canada’s left had carved out a new space in the discourse, with environmental activism and demands for “social justice” riding the coattails of indigenous moral standing. The Berger Inquiry’s implications would reverberate for decades. And indeed, the cultural and ideological battles of decolonization, which began in Europe with Fanon and first sprouted in Canada in the 1970s, are only getting worse.
